Chaos is What Killed the Dinosaurs
by Sageclaw
Summary: Jason Dean is the newest student at Westerburg. He meets Veronica Sawyer, and the pair become entwined with life and death. One problem: Veronica actually enjoys killing, but JD isn't so satisfied. (Inspired by a Tumblr post) (Contains both the musical and movie universes) (Full disclaimers/warnings in the author's note).
1. Greetings and Salutations

**Like I said, this was inspired by a Tumblr post :) For the first few chapters, it'll be almost identical to the movie. However, after Chandler's death, it'll separate from the script quite largely. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading!**

 **Warnings: There's going to be a lot of swearing and other not-so-nice stuff (Homophobia, racism, self harm, suicide, abuse in relationships, little to no sexual content...Typical Heathers terribleness). I'll change it to M if it gets too bad.**

 **Disclaimer: Brands, music, and other things like that featured in this fanfiction don't belong to me.**

* * *

Sherwood, Ohio.

My dad blabbered away again about a building he blew to pieces, before mentioning that we were moving away. Of course, I was happy to leave Albany, it wasn't that memorable. I assumed Sherwood would be the same. The town seemed like another bump in a road - three pointless months and back to moving.

The first few days? They seemed to correlate with my theory. I picked out the popular crowd pretty quickly, a bunch of assholes who would rather play third base all day then do something productive with their lives. I've noticed that everyone seemed to be based around a clique, each member called Heather.

And the trio - or rather the quartet of Heathers paraded around, talking aimlessly to the other popular shitheads. All I got from it was that the fourth addition, surprisingly enough, was named Veronica.

The non-Heather, and who I assumed to be Chandler, asked everyone from joanies to jocks and wrote down their answers. _Very_ productive. And Veronica? She listened lightly, dwelling more on the fact that I was staring her down.

"I was a bit surprised when she walked right over.

"She was hugging a clipboard to her chest, smiling faintly. "Hello, Jason Dean."

"Greetings and salutations," I began, my voice a little bit more airless than I expected. She didn't look too stereotypical, but I wasn't faithful on my assumption. I continued, jaded, "Are you a Heather?"

"She seemed more interested than I did. "No," she answered. "I'm a Veronica - Sawyer."

"I nodded, eyeing her up. She shifted, her gaze still seeping in mine. "This may seem like a really stupid question."

"There are no stupid questions."

"Veronica smirked wider this time, chuckling silently. "You inherit five million dollars the same say aliens land on the earth and say they're gonna blow it up in two days. What do you do?"

I broke the eye contact for a second, glancing down at the floor. "That's," I continued fluttering my gaze everywhere but her perplexing demeanor, "The stupidest question I've ever heard."

"I paused, taking into consideration that I _could_ throw in a half-assed answer, and pull it off as sarcastic or cynical. However, this girl could be different. Might as well try to be interested.

"Ah, I don't know. Probably row out to the middle of a lake somewhere, bring along a bottle of tequila, my sax, and some bac'."

"How very."

I found myself grinning, before Chandler swept in. She stood next to Veronica, nudging. "Come on, Veronica."

"Later," she sighed, her dark brown eyes lingering on my face. She smiled disjointedly, needing Chandler to drag her away.

 _Definitely_ not a Heather.

I looked at the wall, regaining my apathetic composure. It seemed useful as two jocks trudged over, one of them sticking their hands in my bowl of god knows what, or to some, a lunch.

"You gonna eat this?" he sneered, trying to replicate Veronica's haunting stare. He failed.

"What did your boyfriend say when you told him you were moving to Sherwood, Ohio?" the other added.

I raised a brow, silent. What were these idiots trying to accomplish? In what world would that lame ass attempt at an insult scare anybody?

"The first one leaned closer. "Answer him, dick."

"Hey, Ram," the other glanced at the now named senior, "Doesn't this cafeteria have a 'no fags allowed' rule?'"

"Well they," I began, with a scornful tone, "Seem to have an open-door policy for assholes, though, don't they?"

;"They shared a futile mental exchange, before glaring at me. "What'd you say, dickhead?" the unnamed jock snarled.

"Ah, I'll repeat myself." I sighed nonchalantly, standing up. I swiftly pulled out a gun and shot two blanks.

"Assholes.

Thanks for reading! If you'd like, I really appreciate reviews, follows and favorites! C: Have a wonderful night!


	2. Snappy Snack Shack

**I hope you enjoy today's chapter! For now, I'll probably update this once a week. I'm very excited to continue writing this, so I'll at least get this completed. I've actually gotten a lot written all ready.**

* * *

Did I regret that? Not really. I mean, Ram and whats-his-face pissed their pants and ran a mile or two. Now that's something you'll never see again. Though one might expect to see a whole lot of shit when they've moved around like I do, there's really not anything new or special. The same scumbags and bimbettes.

And here I was, sitting at home. Staring at the wall. Dad wouldn't be back until tomorrow, due to a meeting or some crap like that. So? I did the same thing as I do every night.

Go down to a Snappy Snack Shack, get a slushie, maybe a Turbo-Dog, and watch the passerbys in their quotidian lifestyle. I skimmed through the aisles, reading the endless labels that followed. There wasn't anything noteworthy, unlike that Shack in Virginia. I'll never forget the time I saw a corpse. Those cold, empty eyes. How the blood trickled out of his skull in such a distinct, chilling way...

I snapped out of the trance, blinking wildly until I noticed a familiar figure.

Veronica.

She stalked in, glancing around for a second, and settling down near a bunch of corn nuts.

I don't why or how, but I found myself drifting towards her. She was like a magnet, or some shit.

"Are you gonna pull a super-chug with that?"

She grabbed the corn nuts, and turned towards me. She laughed lightly, smiling. "No, but if you're nice, I'll let you buy me a slushie."

Veronica continued staring at me. "I see you know your convenience-speak pretty well."

I nodded, studying her movements. "Yeah well, I've been moved around all my life. Dallas, Baton Rouge, Vegas," I began, sauntering around her. "Sherwood, Ohio. There's always been a Snappy Snack Shack. Any town, any time. Pop a ham-and-cheese in the microwave and feast on a turbo dog. Keeps me sane."

I straightened my posture, and sighed deeply.

"Really?"

She didn't seemed too interested, as she continued moving carelessly, taking a Twizzler out of a jar. "That thing you pulled in the caf today was pretty severe."

It was. Honestly, I'm surprised that I didn't get suspended.

Putting my hands in my pockets, I replied halfheartedly, "Yeah, well, the extreme always seems to make an impression."

She looked down, smirking. _Now_ she was interested. I found myself grinning without cynicism or imitation. A rare occurrence. "Did you say a cherry or coke slushie?"

"I didn't - cherry."

Soon enough, I slithered outside. She followed, slurping inattentively before her gaze fell on my motorcycle. "Nice bike."

"Yeah, just a humble perk from my Dad's construction company," I bragged, sitting on it's seat.

She continued sipping, examining the bike. "You've seen the commercial, right? 'Bringing every state to a higher state.'"

Veronica paused, blinking. "Wait a minute! Jason Dean. Your pop's Big Bud Dean Construction?"

I looked away, lighting a cigarette. I had to mention the one thing I never want to talk about.

"Must be rough moving place to place."

"Well, everyone's life has got static," I grumbled, staring into her brown orbs. "Is your life perfect?"

Veronica spoke flatly, her tone tinged with annoyance. "I'm on my way to a party at Remington University."

She jumped as a car beeped. I spun around. Chandler. Who did I expect?

"No, my life's not perfect. I don't really like my friends."

"I," I breathed, "I don't really like your friends either."

"Well, it's like they're people I work with, and our job is being popular and shit," she laughed, growing a tiny bit anxious.

Fuck, Veronica was definitely better than a Heather. If there was one thing I'll do in the town, its convincing her to abandon these idiots.

"Maybe," I offered, "It's time to take a vacation."

With that, she hesitated, looking back at Heather Chandler and the car. "Wish I could. Heather's got me wrapped up with beer guzzling jocks tonight," she joked, before jogging to Chandler's car. She smiled softly at me, and drove away.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading. Have a wonderful day. Also, I noticed that someone's already favorited this story! Thank you so much, FandomsGirl0206! :) Note: This isn't very long, but the chapters are going to be longer soon enough.  
**


	3. Finn and Sawyer

**Hello! I hope you enjoy this week's chapter - well, technically the second chapter of this current week, since it's Sunday, but whatever! :)**

* * *

I didn't plan on going over to Veronica's, really. It just sorta popped into my head. I had just gotten home, half expecting my night to end early with Dad busting through the door.

He never did.

All I wanted was to speak with Veronica again. She seemed to, I don't know, _get it._

I raced through the house, my eyes flickering around the place, looking around for the particular room. I opened the door to find an airless, cluttered office with files and related papers strewn about.

Maybe I could find her friends' home phone numbers in some odd file - Dunnstock or Finn?

With a bit of effort, I was able to pull out a worn piece of paper entitled Edward T. Finn. The father of Betty Finn, I presumed.

It contained basic information - most of its context useless to me, except for the little black line that inscribed his phone number.

"You've reached the Finn household."

"Is, ah, Betty there?"

"Yes. Why, if I may ask?"

"Oh, ah, I just need some clarification on tomorrow's science test."

"Wait a second, aren't you Bud Dean's son?"

"No."

"You shouldn't lie, kid."

"Can you get Betty over? I really need her help."

And with that, the honeyed voice faded, and footsteps drummed against the floor.

"Hello? Is this Jason Dean?"

"The one and only."

"My dad said you needed help on a science test? You're not in Mr. Wiater's class, though, so why are you asking me?"

"Listen, I need you to do me a favor."

"Okay..."

"You still friends with Sawyer?"

A long period of silence followed.

"I think so. I mean, she was really nice to me today before Heather dragged her away...But before the Heathers? Oh man, you should of seen us! Martha, Ronnie and I would always play Mystery Date at Ronnie's house, and Martha woul-"

"Mmm. You know her address, right?"

Betty seemed to hesitate at that moment. "Of course I do. Why?"

"Can you," I mumbled, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen. "Give it to me?"

"Why would I?" she asked quietly.

"Finn, just give me the address."

"Did - are you her boyfriend?"'

"I am. Sure."

"You should call Veronica, then."

I kicked the leg of the writing desk, growling. "It's a surprise. A birthday party. Three hour anniversary. _Whatever makes you happy._ Just give me the goddamn address!"

"Sorry. Tell Ronnie I said hi, okay?"

With the the newly printed letters on the parchment, I hung up. Veronica could really use tips on getting better friends then these fucking idiots.

o00o

From my first glance, I could tell Veronica was rich. Hell, anyone could tell. The rows of big houses furnished with only the best, gardens bigger than anything I could ever buy, and the drunken teenagers staggering home after a wild night of boning horny jocks and downing ten bottles of Budweiser.

Veronica's neighborhood wasn't gated, surprisingly. Easier for me to get to her home.

Soon enough, I was parked in her driveway. The house seemed to be empty - minus the hallway. I assumed it was Veronica just returning, knowing she'd be drunk or she was about to sleep. The real challenge? How to get up into her room.

I ambled behind the house, looking for any ways to climb up. I was able to locate a ladder near the shed.

I don't know why or how, but here I was, climbing up into some girl's room, uninvited. What would I even do - what would she do? Have a conversation about how I found her house?

Just as I was about to poke my head in, I saw what looks to be a diary fling across the bedroom, landing with a sharp thud.

She glanced at me, almost jumping. She breathed, blinking in a flutter.

"Dreadful etiquette, I apologize."

Veronica smiled shakily, her eyes a mix of bewilderment, gladness, and wonder. "It's okay," she replied.

A quick douse of silence ensued, and I sighed, peeking outside. Within a second, I looked back, meeting her gaze. "I saw the croquet set-up in the back. You up for a match?"

o00o

There was something so perplexing, so fascinating and so alluring about Veronica Sawyer. The way she stared at me, her movements, what she said and did - Things that I never excepted a popular girl like her. Snide remarks and a dark sense of humor.

It had started out as a game of croquet, but soon spiraled out of control. Veronica suggested changing the rules and basis of the game, and, well, we ended up with the two of us wrapped in a blanket, naked, and making out.

It took a while before I could even attempt to separate from her lips. She noticed this pretty quickly, and pulled away. "Mmm, thank you, that was my," It took me a second to regain my demeanor, or even catch a breath. "First game of strip croquet."

"Well, you're welcome. It's a lot more interesting than just flinging off your clothes and boning away on a neighbor's swing set."

"Mmm - there's a lot to be said for throwing off your - oww!" I yipped, grabbing her hand. Her bite was softer than it felt, and she giggled.

"What a night," Veronica began, starry eyed. "What a life. They wanted to move me into high school out of the sixth grade because I was supposed to be this big genius -"

I nodded.

" - then we decided to chuck the idea, because I'd have trouble making friends, blah, blah, blah," Veronica sighed, her infectious smile disintegrating into a frown. "Now blah, blah, blah is all I do. I use my grand IQ to decide what color gloss to wear, and how to hit three keggers before curfew."

Before she could utter another word, I kissed her again. It wasn't as deep as the last or as addicting. But Veronica still made it worthwhile. I caressed her hair, thinking.

None of the trio - but mostly Chandler - didn't deserve to be in the same school as Veronica Sawyer. Veronica was the only one who understood me. She understood my bullshit angst, she understood my hatred for the Heathers. She _belonged_ to me and only to me. Chandler couldn't steal her, Veronica was my girlfriend. Chandler couldn't take her away. That bimbette needed to suffer.

"Mmm - Heather Chandler is one bitch that deserves to die," I thought out loud.

Veronica seemed to hesitate at that moment. It almost seemed like she was about to agree, but she shook her head.

"Killing her won't solve anything," she mumbled, nestling closer into my chest. "I say we just grow up, be adults and die."

I nodded, moaning softly as we kissed. "But before that," she murmured between kisses, "I'd like to see Heather Chandler puke her guts out."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! By the way, thank you guys for following and favoriting this stupid fanfic. Four favorites, three follows. Crazy stuff, definitely! Maybe I could doing something in the future to celebrate? Well, I'll think about it until next week.**

 **As you can see, I'm starting to add little extra tidbits. I really thought that it should be explained how JD got Veronica's address, considering that they met that day.**

 **If there's anything you'd like to see in the upcoming chapters, just review this story or PM me. Have a wonderful day, goodbye :)**


	4. Morning

**Hello, everyone! I hope you enjoy today's chapter!**

* * *

Thankfully enough, before we could pass out on the lawn, Veronica and I dragged ourselves to her room.

I awoke soon enough, groggy. One thing I never could have was a full night's sleep.

The place where Veronica had laid was empty - an odd factor for someone who was usually the earliest riser.

The scratching of a pen was proved to be Veronica at her desk, writing in what I assumed to be her diary.

I lifted my head, looking around the baronial room. Everything, spare a few items, seemed to be shades of blue. It wasn't littered or spotless. Books overfilled her shelves - an avid reader. She had a lot of photographs scattered around, some with the Heathers, some with Betty Finn and Martha Dunnstock. I spotted my trench coat sitting on a chair, folded hastily alongside my other clothes. Veronica's way of being polite, I assumed.

It only took a cough for her to notice that I was awake. "Good morning," she croaked, smiling dryly.

"Morning. What time is it?"

"Last time I checked, it was around six fifty," she replied. Veronica paused, scrambling through her cluttered desk to pull out a pocket watch. "7:01 - AM."

I nodded, brushing a hand through my hair. "Ah. What time do your parents get up?"

Veronica froze in her place. She hissed a quick _shit_ before snapping her diary closed and scurrying across the room. She tossed over my clothes, grabbing a brush in her panic. She brushed her hair hurriedly, and I pulled on my clothes.

She glanced towards me. "Wait in the closet. I'll go talk to my dad, all right?"

"How come we can't just sneak out the window?"

"Jesus, JD," she spat, crossing her arms. "Both of us? We have windows in other places, too. What will my dad think when he see his daughter sneak out with a mysterious kid in a trench coat, especially on a motorcycle?"

I groaned. "Whatever you want, princess."

"To your left, soldier."

I proceeded to walk into her closet, still heated from our quick confrontation. Technically, I could just leave her and disappear into the hallways of Westerburg for the last few months I have. It'd be the smart thing to do.

This fling wouldn't last. I knew that.

A couple of seconds later, I heard the door slam shut.

But it was always nice to have someone around. Even for a week or so.

There was two things I could do in this moment: stay silent and do nothing - or take the chance to inspect her room a little bit more closely.

Even Ram, the doltish asshole could figure out which one I chose.

There was one thing that I noticed straight away - she had a new outfit to wear every single day for a year. Maybe two, now that I really went through her clothing. Veronica had a few boxes, most of them filled with old toys and clothing that clearly didn't fit anymore.

However, there was one that caught my eye. It didn't have a title written in sharpie like the others.

I debated myself, wondering if I should look inside. It could be seemingly innocent, or something not so innocent. I strained my ears to hear Veronica's conversation with her father, picking up only a few words.

Fuck it.

I opened it, bracing for whatever they might be. I was pretty surprised to see a major collection of everything from The Shining to The Breakfast Club.

I had to admit it, she had a pretty good taste. I expected to see a bunch of chick flicks, knowing Veronica's clique, and maybe one or two horror movies. But not this many.

"JD?" I heard Veronica call out, shutting the door behind her.

Plopping down the cases in the box, I shoved it back into it's place just as she peeked in the closet. I grinned, putting my hands in my pockets. She smiled softly back, her spine straightened.

"I told my dad that I was gonna go out for a while and catch a ride with Heather," she explained, putting on a coat. "I'd rather go to your house, though. You okay with that?"

I curled my lips, glancing away. "Not really. Ah, my dad's probably home. Don't want to deal with him right now."

God knows what he'd say. I'd be dead if he caught me sneaking back in - did he even notice I was gone?

Veronica stopped mid-step, scanning my expression. "Um, we can go to a Snappy Snack Shack then. We'll decide what to do from there."

She could read my mind now, apparently.

"All right then," I exclaimed, heading towards her window. "Now that sounds like a solid plan!"

She laughed, grabbing her handbag. "I'll distract my father while you park a little more down street. Not too far, though, JD. I don't want to walk for ten minutes or more."

I nodded.

o00o

We both strolled out of the store, Veronica sipping the slushie that I had bought. I leaned against the concrete wall, lighting up a cigarette.

I watched the smoke swirl out of my mouth, as we huddled against the cold.

"Shit!" she groaned, grasping her head.

Brain freeze.

"Hey - I'll take it," I murmured, gesturing for the cup. She nodded briskly, almost throwing the slushie into my hand. She slithered into my arms, watching the cars as they whizzed by.

I sipped deeply, wincing as it did the same for me. "Jesus, if it wasn't for brain freezes, I'd go here and buy one everyday," Veronica sighed.

"'Eh. I actually don't mind them - I like them, really."

She raised an eyebrow.

"It, ah, like I said, keeps me sane," I explained, looking at the ground. "My addiction, to be honest."

Veronica stared at me, narrowing her gaze. "Is it an alternative to cutting or something like that?"

"'Mmm, I don't know. I started drinking these almost daily around freshman year. Nicholas had never been to a Shack before - a faux pas. And, since that day, I've been hooked."

"Nicholas? Hmm. Surprised you didn't go mental on him. Who is he?"

"There's a story for another day, Veronica."

She nodded, her eyes unmoving. Just as she was about to say something, a car screeched past and stopped her. She shook her head.

Veronica grimaced, kicking pebbles off of the sidewalk. "Fuck, I can't stop thinking about Heather!"

That bitch again. "Well, why don't we pay her a visit?" I suggested.

"What do you mean?"

"You know - go over to her house. Make her regret what she said to you."

She froze, but then relaxed, laughing. "Maybe we can make serve her something that'll make her throw up for days!"

Not exactly what I meant, but, her idea could work too. Anything would be better than nothing.

"Know her address?"

"Yeah, its not too far from here. Fifteen minutes, I'd guess."

I put out my cigarette and we headed out to the Chandlers'.

* * *

 **You'd be surprised how much fun JD is to write. Awful character (in the context of a human being), but fantastic to explore! I've gotten another idea for a Heathers fanfic. If I like it, I might publish it.**

 **Also, as I was thinking last week, don't you think we should celebrate for this many people reading this? A requested one-shot, perhaps? (Of course, it has to be Heathers related)...Whatever you want, PM or review to tell me what you think we should do!**

 **(NOTE: I have gotten permission from the original owner of this concept to write this.)**

 **As always, thanks for reading, favoriting and following this story! I hope you all have a wonderful day :)**


	5. Big Blue

**Hello, everyone. I hope you enjoy today's chapter!**

* * *

Veronica was right, it only took about fifteen minutes. I pulled up to a manor with a gate - evidence pointing to Chandler's suburban life. Behind the black, swirled bars laid the Victorian estate, dotted with oak trees and a wide, shimmering pond.

Veronica stepped off of the motorcycle, walking straight up to the gate. She picked up a stone, grabbed the key under it, and opened the padlock. It budged within a few seconds, and she pushed open one of the gate doors. She motioned for me to follow, and I slinked past.

"Her parents aren't home," she clarified, sauntering to the house. "But we should go through the kitchen, anyway. She's got a cocker spaniel in the parlor, and that dog barks like crazy if you even look at the front door."

"Is it named Heather?"

This earned a snort from Veronica. She laughed for a second. "No. It's Corey, but good guess."

We were passing the front of the house now. I craned my neck, looking at the multitude of rooms. I identified a billiard room, study, sewing room, bedrooms...

"It's like she's got everything."

Veronica turned to me, her dark brown eyes burning into mine. "Oh, she does. She rules the world."

"Oh, mark my words, Veronica Sawyer. Soon, the Wicked Witch of the West shall be gone! We Ozians will have our freedom!"

She stopped walking as she spun around. She narrowed her eyes, a smirk plastered on her face. "And what does that make you?"

"A patriotic, humble taxpayer of the Emerald City, Dorothy."

Veronica clenched her jaw, scoffing. "If we don't get moving, the witch is going to wake up soon."

She stomped over to the back, reaching for the backdoor. Just as she was about to slide it open, I sighed. "Are you sure she's even here?"

"Trust me, she skips the Saturday morning trip to Grandma's, even when she's not hungover."

I slithered in the kitchen, glancing around. Veronica was already looking in the fridge.

"We'll just concoct ourselves a little hangover cure that'll, ah, induce her to spew red, white and blue, then," I began, skimming through the cupboards.

Veronica paused slightly. "What about, like, milk and orange juice," she asked, looking over at me. "What's the up-chuck factor on that?"

I didn't respond, still scanning at the products. Chandler's family had everything, enough food to feed the whole town of Sherwood, Ohio for a couple of days - months, even. I looked over at the next cabinet, noticing a bright blue and white bottle. Hull Clean.

I grabbed it and showcased it to her. "I'm a no-rust-build-up man, myself."

She strolled over, holding two bottles of milk and orange juice. She wasn't budging. "Don't be a dick. That stuff'll kill her."

I hesitated, slightly disappointed. I opened another cabinet, grabbing a glass while Veronica continued talking.

"I know, we can cook up some soup, and put it in a coke. It's - it's pretty sick, eh?," she explained as I poured Hull Clean into the glass I had recovered. "Now should it be chicken noodle or bean with bacon?"

"Put a lid on that stuff. I say we go with big blue here."

She frowned, rolling her eyes. "What are you talking about? She would never drink anything that looked like that, anyway."

I had to admit - she was right. Hell, I wouldn't drink it, even if I didn't know what it was. But, Chandler needed to go down. Somehow.

I grabbed a mug with a lid. "So, we'll...put it in this," I poured the liquid into the cup. "She won't be able to see what she's drinking."

Veronica walked over, still holding the cartons. She took down another mug. "It's only in a cup, jerk."

"Hmm, well, maybe we could cough up a phlegm globber or something."

Might as well, since she obviously wasn't going to take my suggestion.

We coughed, but came up with nothing. We looked at each other, both mumbling, "No."

"Oh well, milk and orange juice will do it quite nicely," she concluded, smiling.

I stalked away, standing by the stove. "Mmm - you chicken?"

"You're not funny."

I stopped in my tracks. Sure, Chandler needed to disappear, but not forever. She just needed to move away - or I needed to move away. Chandler was the equivalent of a bitch, but that doesn't result in the death penalty.

I walked back, murmuring a quick _I'm sorry_ before kissing her. She grabbed one of the cups, and I followed. Chandler wouldn't die today, but we'd make her pay one way or another. Death would be the easy way out.

Veronica ambled out of the kitchen, starting up the staircase. I followed, glancing back at the kitchen. "Do you, ah, have a plan after Moby Dick blows?"

She paused, blinking slowly. "Not really," she confessed. "I was hoping that you'd pick up the situation and get us the hell out of here."

"'Mmm. I'll try to think of something."

Veronica lead us into Heather's bedroom. First thing I noticed? It had a color scheme like Veronica's - a little bit of red, but mostly pink. It seemed like the Heathers all had their own color.

Chandler was still asleep, thankfully. Veronica, holding the mug, strolled right over. "Morning Heather."

Chandler rose up instantly, like she was on cue. She narrowed her eyes. "Veronica."

Her eyes shifted over to mine. "Jesse James. Quelle surprise. Hear about Veronica's affection for regurgitation?"

"Heather, I think last night we both said a lot of stuff we didn't mean."

"Did we?" she scoffed. "How the hell didcha get in here?"

I looked down for a second, before meeting her gaze again. "Um, Veronica knew you'd have a hangover, so I whipped this up for you - it's a family recipe."

Veronica offered the cup politely.

"What did you do, put a phlegm globber in it or something? I'm not gonna drink that piss."

I shrugged, shaking my head. "I knew this stuff'd be too intense for her."

"Intense," she mocked, pulling off her ribbon. "Grow up! You think I'll drink it just because you call me chicken?"

I nodded. Veronica kept silent, but continued to grin and look at me.

Heather stomped over to Veronica, grabbing the mug. "Just give me the cup, assholes."

Heather Chandler downed the fluid, before beginning to choke. Veronica stared at her, puzzled. She looked up at me, mouthing 'did you get the right mug?'

I furrowed my brows. Why so dramatic? Can't she just get it over with and puke?

Both of our questions were answered within seconds.

Heather Chandler, the dictator of Westerberg, stumbled forward, smashing down into her glass table. It shattered, with the magazines flying everywhere.

The Wicked Witch of the West was dead.

* * *

 **Looks like things are starting to heat up. JD didn't notice that Veronica picked up the Hull Clean - a fatal mistake. I wonder what'll happen now...**

 **Thanks for reading! Also...We got our first review!**

SweetRiceball20: Thank you! I can't wait to upload more chapters :)

 **Have a won** **derful day.**


	6. Remorse and Indifference

**I hope you enjoy this chapter! (Also: Who else is going to be alone on Valentine's Day? Well, I am!...Ha).**

* * *

It wasn't the first time I saw a corpse.

The first time I saw a dead body was one of the times I attended my dad's 'deconstruction' jobs. It was somewhere in Massachusetts - near Medford. I was nine at time, and my dad decided I was old enough to join him. My mom was pretty reluctant, but he managed to convince her.

The job was pretty standard: The council ordered for a destruction of a building. Dad nosedived into the deal, promised with big bucks and more publicity.

I was on the curb, sitting with my hands on my knees. I halfheartedly listened to my dad's conversations. We were on winter break - a dreaded event for someone who couldn't go out and do anything like other families - so we ended up following my dad closer than usual.

I just wanted to go home. To sit in front of the tv and watch some stupid cartoon shows. To drink orange juice and talk to my imaginary friends.

However, I couldn't now. The clear signal was given, and the building was ready to blow.

No one realized that one remained behind a wall.

I remember how loud it all was. The big boom - the crashing that followed. Windows shattered, brick crumbled, and all was gone. Only rubble remained. However, as I squinted my eyes, I saw it.

She hadn't lasted a second. I heard her scream - quick, and soul breaking.

My dad was the first to alert everyone. He glanced at me, a bit befuddled. He looked to what I was staring at. "Shit," he grunted.

An ambulance arrived minutes later. They recovered her body. I had barely saw it in detail, but I saw the blood seeping out of her skull. Apparently a piece of concrete or something had hit her head, killing her almost instantly. She had lived long enough to scream.

I didn't cry. I only stared and couldn't stop gasping for air. My mom came soon enough, screaming my name. She was the one crying. She told me that the dead woman was just sleeping, and would wake up soon.

"When?" I had asked.

"Soon, baby, soon. She'll wake up in heaven," she had sobbed. "Just like you will - just like dad and I. But that'll won't be for such a long time, baby."

She hugged me tighter. "Just like Grandpa?" I murmured, looking blankly at the rubble.

"Just like Grandpa. In heaven, him and all the people get along just fine. Even the jerks that like to tease and hurt you. Everyone isn't divided, mean or ignorant."

I liked the idea of heaven. I liked the idea that no one really died - that they were just asleep.

Everyone was nice to each other. Harmony at last.

But my dad? He didn't think so kindly of my mom's claims. I heard them talking that night.

"Jesus, Cath. You can't fill Jason's head with bullshit like that!"

"How else am I supposed to explain your little 'mishap'? You know that. Besides, he's nine years old. A kid his age should never see anything like that."

"He needs to grow up soon."

"What he needs, Bud, is a loving family."

"You're not exactly parent of the year."

"Neither are you, Bud. You know what? When - and I mean when, not if, but when we get divorced, Jason's coming with me. He deserves a proper upbringing."

I fell asleep after that. I didn't want to hear how my asshole of a dad would respond.

I had hoped I'd never see a corpse again. I didn't want to feel empty again - the sense of horror and helplessness. And, here I was.

Staring into the face of another dead body.

It took me a second to process that she was dead. I glanced at Veronica, who was in total shock as well. She sat there, unblinking. I staggered over to Heather's vanity, and almost collapsed on her stool. I couldn't breath.

Veronica was still standing there. "She's dead. Oh my god," she uttered hoarsely. "I just killed my best friend."

"And your worst enemy," I remarked in a wobbly voice.

"Same difference!"

I knew I wasn't going to cry - I never cried. Sure, I would yell and shut down, but never cry. Haven't done that since freshman year. Chandler didn't even deserve to be mourned. How the hell didn't I notice Veronica taking that mug? It was so obvious. Now this corpse wasn't just a stranger, a shell of a human being. She wasn't just sleeping. Heather Chandler, the mythic bitch of the century - was across from me, lifeless.

Someone would find out what we did. Veronica would go to prison. My dad would begrudgingly bail me out, and we would move across the country. We'd never return to Ohio.

My life was already a pile of shit. I didn't need this to make it worse.

"JD!"

I looked over at Veronica. "Um, I'm just a little freaked, here. Did you, ah, say something?"

She sulked over, leaning on the vanity. "Her parents usually come home around nine or ten - we don't have much time. Oh my god. They can't know. We'll go to jail if they catch us."

Veronica paced around the room for a good four or five minutes, mumbling to herself. I couldn't keep my eyes off of the stiff lump surrounded by glass. Everything was numb, surprisingly. I could feel my heart pounding - my body trembling. I really couldn't breath. Shit, this really was our lives. Would my dad bail me out? Probably not. He's never liked me.

I tensed as Veronica touched my shoulder. "Okay," she began, unsteady. "Maybe, just maybe, we can fix this."

"How?"

"I can fake almost anyone's handwriting - including Heather's."

She reached over to the drawer besides me, pulling out a pen and paper. "Maybe we can fake this."

"Like a note?"

"Yeah, like a note," she agreed.

Veronica waited for me to comment, but nothing could come out. She began writing, reading what she wrote as she went along. "You might think what I've done is shocking."

She glanced back over to me, waiting.

I couldn't respond. "But, to me, it describes the innermost turmoil that consumed my life," she breathed slowly, and continued composing. "People think that just because you're beautiful and popular, life is easy and fun. No one understood, I had feelings too."

"I die knowing no one knew the real me."

She nodded. "Good idea. Hey, this isn't too bad," she laid the note on Heather's desk. Veronica stared down at the corpse, her expression blank. She closed her eyes. "Okay, now we just have to get out of here."

Veronica shuffled over to the door, glancing back at me. She waited anxiously, every odd noise startling her.

Corey - or whatever that dog's name was - started barking. I didn't think too much of it until I heard the front door squeak open.

At that moment, both Veronica and I froze. Bug-eyed, she raced towards the window, budging it open. She held it open for a second.

"JD?" she called, nodding towards the outside.

I rose up from the stool, green eyes trained on dark brown. She went first, landing on the roof. I hopped out, ignoring the fact that a corpse laid in the midst of her own blood, drain cleaner and glass.

The jump from there wasn't that high. Both of us were able to land into the thornless bushes below, only perturbed by the screams of Mrs. and Mr. Chandler.

I winced and Veronica ran.

We scrambled towards the gate, tearing through the surrounding trees' hefty branches to reveal my motorcycle.

We got on. I started to drive.

Speeding off. Leaving behind a horror scene for the Chandlers. Renouncing the wrong we had done.

Just...driving away. To nowhere - somewhere far, far away.

I stopped at the outskirts of town, pulling on the curb. If we went any farther, I'd be out of gas and we'd have to walk home. If we dared to, anyway.

Veronica almost fainted, falling into a bed of grass. I stayed put, lighting up a cigarette. I watched as she slowly regained her composure, sitting up in the field and staring up at the sky.

She picked a dandelion, tousling it in her fingers. Expressionless. "We really did it," she droned. "She's gone."

Veronica continued lumbering on, endlessly listing the affects of our simple, yet not so simple mistake. She became white noise as I wandered over to the small hill that overlooked Sherwood.

Heather's property was unheard of in the midst of the woods, but the familiar outline of Westerberg, the Snappy Snack Shack, and my shabby neighborhood dotted the landscape. The streets and halls that Heather had walked. The people that Heather had ridiculed, dated, befriended and tolerated still present in the town. The very fact that I had seen her alive and healthy forty minutes ago. All of these still present, even after her death.

I bit my lip, glancing away from the scenery. With a successful attempt to smooth my trench coat, I stepped back to Veronica.

She was staring at the tiny flowers in the field. Silent and tugging at her hair.

"Veronica?" I murmured, leaning down to meet her eyes.

She sighed, shaking her head. "Sorry. Jesus - We should go. I should go. My mom is still home, and she'll want me home soon." Veronica smiled dishonestly, brushing my hair. "We'll deal with this shit later."

"Veronica, don't you think this is a thing that, uh, is more than important to deal with?" I asked.

"It's covered, Jason -"

I sat by her, narrowing my eyes.

"Don't call me Jason."

" - Okay? Well, everything's sorted. Heather killed herself. We're fine, and I really have to go home," she stuttered, standing up.

She was technically right. The Chandlers would - well, now found their daughter dead with a suicide note on her desk. What else would they think happened? The handwriting was exact...

...But, she didn't show any signs of depression. Not even a utterance of sadness. Nothing.

I watched as Veronica strolled over and waited by my motorcycle, tranquil and content.

How was she content? Chandler was dead. I'm not one for empathy, but Jesus Christ. The bitch was dead. Veronica should be a little more shocked. Even for a few more seconds.

I followed her, looking back at the view of Sherwood. The town would be in chaos either later today or tomorrow.

I drove to Veronica's house, the drive there a little - uncanny. The streets were free of cars, sidewalks of people, and houses of lights. It was around the afternoon, so where was everyone?

We arrived at her home a couple minutes later. She didn't jump off straight away.

"JD?" she asked in a tremulous voice. "Why don't you let people call you Jason?"

I sighed, leaning against her. "Only people to just call me Jason are either dead or on the other side of the country."

She grimaced, stepping off of the motorcycle. "Way to lighten the mood. What is on the other side of the country?"

"It's more of a matter 'who' is that far away, Veronica."

She rolled her eyes, chuckling. "Later, loser."

It was almost like Heather Chandler wasn't dead, and we were stereotypical duo of an angsty boyfriend and his rebellious, rich girlfriend.

Almost.

* * *

 **This was a fun chapter to write. It's a bit long, to be honest. Oh well.**

 **Veronica seems to be a bit more confident than JD is. I wonder if she'll do the same as the canon JD, or try something else to rid Westerberg of the cliques...All we know is that JD tied to Veronica until they die.**

 **Also: I have a Tumblr ask blog for this universe now. Mind stopping by just to follow or even leave an ask? Well, I'll leave the link here: (Remove spaces)**

askroleswappedjdandveronica. tumblr. com

 **By the way, thanks for twelve follows and nine favorites. I can't believe how quickly this has been becoming more and more popular. Thank you for everything.**

 _Responses to Reviews_

Anna The Oreo Artist: I'm glad you're enjoying it as much as I am! :)

SweetRiceball20: Things will only escalate from here. So...I hope you're ready for the ride. It's gonna be a long one.

 **Thanks for reading. Have a wonderful day.**


	7. Postmortem

**Hello. I hope you're having a great day.**

* * *

For a second, I felt normal. Everything seemed the same - a sheen of sunlight illuminated outside my window, the floorboards creaked, and my only company was the house plants.

Until I realized that I had let Veronica pick the wrong mug and now Heather Chandler was dead.

A fact that wouldn't go away - no matter how many times I tried to block those thoughts. They grew and grew like a oncoming storm, harassing and taunting my every action.

I rose out of bed, pushing back the thought. I watered the plants, put on new clothes and headed into the parlor.

Dad always had a million things I needed to take care of: picking up groceries, laundry, sweeping, cleaning bathrooms, washing dishes, cooking, help to pay rent, vacuuming, tidying the rooms, making beds - you name it. As long as he was in charge, I had to take care of the household.

Today happened to be grocery day.

So, I drifted over to the kitchen, scrolling through cabinets and noting missing items. I was halfway through before the doorbell rang.

I glanced at the clock, noting that it wasn't even past ten. It wasn't Dad, that's for sure.

It rang a second time.

Creeping towards the door, I opened it and stared at the person, jaded.

Heather McNamara.

She was garbed in a stuffy overcoat and held a neatly tied, ribbon-topped box. She smiled, biting her lip.

"Is this your house?" she mumbled.

"Yeah," I confirmed, glancing behind her. Duke or Veronica wasn't anywhere to be seen. McNamara was never alone.

"Good," she replied, straightening. "I brought a Welcome-To-The-Neighborhood present. I live across from you, so..."

"'Mmm."

"Can I come in?" she asked, her words jumbled.

I thought back to the long list of chores.

If I slammed the door in her face, then she wouldn't bother me anymore and I could be alone.

Only if she didn't tell Veronica.

With scattered thoughts and unclear decisions, I nodded swiftly. "You can come in."

The blonde smiled a bit brighter, strolling inside. She peeked around as we ventured towards the kitchen. "Nice house," she commented. "Lots of house plants. Pretty big, too - you garden?"

I untied the box. "Depends on how you look at it. I mean, I, ah, take care of them, but, you know."

Behind a plastic sheen, a lukewarm dozen of pastries sweetened the air. Heather waited for my expression.

"Sorry for barging in, I didn't have any time to stop by. I've been doing a ton of favors for my friends."

"You make these?" I asked, noticing the little flowery designs of icing and powdered sugar.

McNamara leaned over the counter, tapping with her fingers. "Uh-huh. Heather thinks it's stupid, but I like baking these. Especially making them have their own unique designs," she explained, looking down. "Sorry, I'm talking too much."

"Not as much as Heather Chandler."

"Don't say that," she sighed. "She'd kill you if you said something like that - "

I cringed.

" - She's a nice person, even if she can be a pillowcase. I mean, why else would she let me hang out with her?"

"She's dead."

Her pleasant demeanor shattered as her brown eyes dilated to the size of the moon. "What?" she asked, her voice breaking.

"Veronica didn't tell you? She went over to Heather's house on Saturday and found her face down in glass and drainer cleaner. Apparently it was suicide."

"I," she trailed off. "She didn't seem depressed or anything! Are you sure?"

I shrugged, shaking my head. "Almost a hundred percent positive. Kids can hide shit like that from their friends and family pretty well." I explained, walking behind her. "I know I did."

Before I could say anything more, she raced towards the front door. "Thanks for letting me in, JD."

Heather was crying at this point - I could tell. She buried her face in her hands, tearing splattering the yellow sleeves.

She paused outside. "Can I come over later? Oh God, that sounds terrible - I mean, my mom wanted to meet your family, but she was working early today."

I followed her. With a brush of my hair, I nodded. "Why not? I could use some more free food."

Her anxious posture softened and she quietly laughed, sniffling. "Bye. I gotta go motor to Heather's house or else she'll have my head for not telling her sooner."

"Bye," I called, watching as she closed the door lightly and sprinted across the sidewalks.

Heather really thought that Moby Dick killed herself.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading. I decided to focus more on other relationships besides JD and Veronica, mostly because it might get old.**

 **What do you think of McNamara? JD seems to tolerate her at least. What do you think will develop in their relationship? Hatred? Friendship?**

 **Also - sorry that this chapter was so short. I have a lot of things planned, so I wanted to make this chapter a bit slow paced.**

 _Responses to Reviews_

SweetRiceball20: Can't say. Maybe I just saying that they are stuck together - maybe I was saying that one or both of them is going to die. It is still possible JD can switch to Veronica's ways or oppose them.

 **Have a wonderful day!**


	8. A Dreadful Visit

Heather Chandler's funeral was today.

I was a bit surprised to know that I was invited, but Veronica explained that it was an open thing. I thought that was a bit disrespectful, considering that her horde of ex boyfriends would attend - before concluding that Heather would want all the attention anyway. Wanted people to mourn over her, even if they loathed her.

And here they did. Everyone inside the Westerburg halls seemed to mull over her death.

Each period was the same: The bell would ring, the teacher would stand in front of the class, and provoke a detailed analysis of Heather Chandler's suicide. I even got to have a little face-to-face chat with Heather McNamara again.

When Mrs. Lockwood let us lose, the blonde spun around and pulled her chair closer to my desk. Her brown eyes flickered with grief as she frowned at me. "You know, for a second, I thought you were joking," she murmured, tears bubbling in her eyes. "You really weren't."

"Don't cry," I asserted, resting my chin in my hand. "Heather wasn't your friend anyway."

Heather froze, cupping her mouth. "She was my best friend!"

People were staring at us now, their whispers reiterating almost chant-like comments. _Did he just say that? Holy shit - he just pissed off a Heather._

I leaned over my desk, my face inches away from hers. "What's the nicest thing Heather did for you?"

"She let me borrow one of her scrunchies," she offered.

"A scrunchie. For what, a day?" I snarled. "Is that really what you'll base your friendship on? A fucking piece of fabric?"

"I," Heather stuttered, her face deadpan. She sank into her seat, crossing her arms. "You're right."

I almost felt bad for her.

Mrs. Lockwood - mainly out of pity and boredom - halted the discussion. She clapped her hands together, calling the class to focus. "That's enough. We need to wrap up this unit."

o00o

"You live near Heather McNamara?"

I glanced back at Veronica, her gaze intent on the powder blue house.

"Unfortunately."

I ambled into the living room, plopping on the couch. I turned on the tv as Veronica joined me.

"What's with all the boxes?" she queried.

"Like I said, I move around a lot. No use in unboxing everything," I replied, looking around. "It's just a bunch of books and old photographs anyway."

She kept looking at the multitude of house plants and odd trinkets surrounding her.

A razor-thin smile creased her mouth.

"All right. Let's see how Sherwood is handling the downfall of Heather Chandler, shall we?"

Veronica laughed softly, wrapping her arm around me. "I can't wait."

Heather Duke's face was displayed on the screen. She rehashed fake reports of their relationship, her emotions dull. With a flick of the remote, I changed the channel.

"I remember I won her a rhino at the 4H Club, for - "

"Oh, you're an asshole," Veronica murmured. "Mute him."

I changed the channel.

Duke's face appeared again. "You know, we liked the same kind of clothes - "

"Heather, how many networks did you run to?" Veronica blurted out. She glanced towards me, running her fingers through my hair. "Jesus, it's the same thing every time. Change the channel."

I changed the channel again.

It was interesting to watch Veronica rant on and on about her classmates. In these few moments, her voice went from silvery to orotund. Her hair glistened in the sunlight like a single firefly on a summer's night, her eyes the color of black pepper.

She was _perfect._

A perfect girl for a imperfect boy. A second-rate, miserable type of imperfect. The kind you put back on the shelf after a quick glance. You hide it behind newer and unbroken models, hoping that no one would notice it.

Until someone does, and it's thrown away without a thought.

What is she doing here?

"It's not going to be the same here without her - "

What am _I_ doing here?

"What're you talking about? You hated her, she hated you!"

What am I?

" - Every English class, I looked forward to seeing her -"

Three questions I could never answer.

I turned off the TV.

A reality I couldn't face - can't face to this day.

Veronica grimaced, covering her face with her hands. "I thought her death stopped all this bullshit."

"Heather Chandler has always been top dog, Veronica. Westerburg can't leave go of her image just yet - her clones will make sure of it."

Veronica peeked out of her hands. "Maybe we should get rid of them, too."

"What?"

She only blinked.

A creak of the door startled both of us, and I recognized the big, echoing footsteps.

Big Bud Dean.

He threw a bag towards the fireplace, staring up at the ceiling.

I could hear him bitching under his breath.

"Hey, Son, I didn't hear you come in."

"Hey, Dad, how was work today?" he imitated, strolling over to a treadmill.

He waited for a reply. I simply glanced at Veronica, pausing. "I think you should get going, darling."

Dad rolled his eyes, grunting.

"It was miserable," he answered, scowling. "Some damn tribe of withered old bitches doesn't want us to terminate that fleabag hotel. All because Glenn Miller and his band once took a shit there. Just like Kansas - remember fucking Kansas?"

I nodded. "Yeah, that was the one with the wheat, right?"

"'Save The Memorial Oak Tree' Society. Showed those fucks."

Veronica shifted closer towards me, avoiding my Dad's cold gaze. She caught my attention, mouthing _is he always like this?_

"Yeah - 30 of those 4th of July fireworks attached to the trunk. Arraigned, but acquitted," I explained lackadaisically. Veronica seemed to almost chuckle at my tone, nuzzling closer into my neck.

"Gosh, pop, I almost forgot to introduce my girlfriend."

"Veronica, this is my dad. Dad - Veronica," I clarified.

She held out her hand, her smile fake. "Hi."

He ignored her.

"Why don't you stay for dinner?" my dad asked, glancing at her. "Jason here -"

"JD."

" - JD here invited the McNamaras over. We could use someone less batshit to balance it out."

Veronica grabbed her purse, jumping up. She backed away nervously, collecting her demeanor. "I can't, my mom's making my favorite meal tonight. Spaghetti - lots of oregano."

"How nice," I commented, glimpsing at the photo beside me. "Last time I saw my mom? She was waving from a library window in Texas. Right, Dad?"

He stepped off the treadmill. "Right, Son."

"Right," Veronica repeated, inching away.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Anyone find what Veronica said interesting? She's still pretty much herself, but I think she's changed a little bit. Also, are you excited for Heather Chandler's funeral? What do you think will ensue?**

 **As of now, this fanfiction has 15 followers and 11 favorites! Thank you so much, guys! I'm still up for the offer on the forth chapter.**

 **By the way, I'm still active on my Tumblr ask blog. Drop by and ask a question if you'd like.**

 _Responses to Reviews_

Nap Team Captain - Ahh! Thank you so much! :)

SweetRiceball20 - I do too. It might be a little while before they have a chance at friendship, but I think its possible.

 **Have a wonderful day.**


	9. Mourning Meal

**Hello. I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

I've never liked funerals. The last one I attended was back in 85' - my mother's.

Some see them as celebrations of life - I see them as a tedious excuse to have an extra trip to church. The corpse is empty. There's no ghost. No soul. Nothing to grieve over.

Nevertheless, I managed to bring myself to go. Heather Chandler wasn't supposed to be dead - it was Veronica and I's fault. I had to pay my dues.

I arrived at the funeral around 4:10 PM Veronica was already waiting by the doors, talking to Heather McNamara and Duke.

She beckoned me over, fidgeting with the hydrangea flowers pinned to her blazer. "I'm glad you came," she admitted. "I was worried you'd flunk."

"Wouldn't dream of it, darling."

I glanced at her outfit for a split second - she had changed into a blue blazer and skirt, topped with a pillbox hat. Interesting choice for a funeral, to say the least.

We shuffled into the church, settling onto the pews. People filed in behind us, and the ever looming presence of Heather Chandler was undeniable.

It was like she was sitting next to me, painting her nails and humming _Like a Prayer_ by Madonna.

I spotted the Heathers at the front, Ram and Kurt a row behind them, and even a few stoners and nerds dotted around. Name anyone from Westerburg, and you'll probably find them in the church.

I glanced at Veronica, who was absentmindedly tapping against her purse and smiling at passersby. I clutched her hand, shrinking into my seat. She glanced over at me with a crooked frown.

"You okay?" she murmured.

"Yeah. I'm just, ah, not used to crowds," I lied sotto voce. Her face screwed up immediately as her eyes flickered around my expression - as if she was trying to deduce my reply. "Don't like people. You know?"

Her brown eyes, simmering with uncertainty and boredom, clouded to a pale-ish bistre brown. She took another look around the church, before staring into me. "We'll leave soon, JD."

The room fell silent as a man doddered to the pulpit, his wrinkled face obscured by the dusky light. He coughed once, opening a Bible before addressing the crowd.

"I blame not Heather, but rather a society that tells its youth that the answers can be found in the MTV video games," Father Ripper began, his eyes drifting around the hall. "We must pray that the other teenagers of Sherwood, Ohio know the name of the righteous dude who can solve their problems."

"It's Jesus Christ, and he's in the book."

The mass crooned a long, airless amen.

As people shambled over to Heather's casket, endlessly sputtering curses and sobbing, I leaned over to Veronica. "You gonna go, ah, pray?"

"Yeah - I should."

The train of people sat by the casket one by one, mumbling incoherent prayers. I watched all of them - watching as caterwauls and tears developed. Veronica went before me.

But as I glanced around the church out of boredom, I saw it.

While she clutched her purse and faulty tears streamed down her cheeks, the familiar smirk creased her face. Razor-thin and hypnotic.

Veronica left within a second of me processing what she just did. I bit my tongue before I could call out to her.

I gazed back at Heather Chandler.

She was just as I expected - motionless and cold. The once vile Westerburg demon, the one who harassed multiple people for fun, the one who made Veronica suffer, was powerless in her state. A day or less away from being covered by mounds of dirt. Underground. Forgotten - the only sign of her existence being her name, birth date and death date.

It was a terrifying idea to think about. While others remained alive, her crimes would be forgotten and erased. Replaced by a more pleasant veil of a victim.

If there was anyone who didn't deserve that - it would be Heather Chandler. She deserved to suffer. Cry. Bleed. Anything but death.

Death was the easy solution to a lifetime when life fucks you over. Only good people should be allowed a fate like that.

I lingered on her face for a minute or two, before racing out of the church. People, dressed in black and dotted around the grounds, quietly conversed. A few of them shifted their attention to me, before brushing me off and reengaging in pointless gossip.

I passed by Heather McNamara, who smiled and gave a small wave. She mouthed _a see you later_ before disappearing into the crowd.

o00o

The doorbell rang.

I cringed at the tone, moving about in my room with a flustered air. I brushed my wrinkled shirt, hoping it was a good enough impression. If Dad wasn't here to help, I had to make up for him.

Scurrying downstairs, I waded through the jungle of boxes and houseplants, heading towards the front door.

I opened it to reveal five figures.

All of them seemed to be a shade of blonde.

Heather was the center of the group, her head held high in the midst of younger siblings. Her presumed mother, tangled in the indifferent eleven and five-year-olds, smiled alongside her daughter.

"Nice to meet you," the oldest of the women chimed. Her blonde hair, peppered with gray, shined in the white light. "I'm Valerie."

The night whisked by pretty quickly - Heather and her mother made cheery conversation while her brothers woofed down beef stroganoff.

Two of them - Michael and Caleb - ended up stealing a couple of rolls while no one but me was looking. I ignored them, straining my gaze towards the others.

It was a pleasant ambiance, to say the least. The soft warble of the radio trickled through the dining room, weaving and wobbling through the air to avoid the infectious laughter. The still hot meal steamed through diluted tunnels of smoke and perfumed the air. Heather sketched out an anecdote of some sort - further lightening the mood.

But, as the family howled with laughter, I felt quite the contrary.

I felt...apathetic. Isolated. Like I didn't care, no matter what they said. I wanted to - but I couldn't.

I searched for a reason in my head, begging even for a petty motive. Something. There had to be some goddamn reason I couldn't attempt to throw a sardonic comment into the mix.

But, out of the thousands of things I had in my mind, a reason wasn't one of them.

I tried to say something but only air came out.

The storm of thoughts loomed over my head again. It swirled around me like a churning, black river.

The warmth of the house dissipated into frigid temperatures, and I could only think of three questions.

 _Why are you so happy?_

 _It isn't fair. Why do we get to experience happiness while the dead rot in the ground?_

 _Why can't you leave me alone?_

"JD?" Heather muttered, shaking my shoulder.

I mumbled " _can you leave?"_

"What?" she consulted, leaning closer.

"Can you leave?" I repeated. "Please?"

The room fell silent - spare the sounds of breathing.

Heather exchanged a worried look with her mother, before nodding swiftly. "Yeah. Of course."

It took about five minutes for them to leave, as the youngest of the bunch, Tyler, wouldn't budge.

"But we just got here," he protested, crossing him arms.

"And we're leaving," Valerie pressed. "Everything comes to an end, Tyler."

She ended up him dragging outside with a hasty goodbye. I was able to pull off a crooked smile, waving as they left.

But, as the door clicked to signal it was closed, I shuffled to my room and fell onto my bed.

I let the cold waters wash over me until nothing but bitter blackness remained.

* * *

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'm having a lot of fun writing this fanfic.**

 **Poor JD. I don't think he's doing so well...**

 **Also, for when Veronica smiles at Heather Chandler, I wrote that before I binge watched Death Note a couple of days ago. When Light smiles the same way, I thought "Huh. Look at that. I'm still keeping that scene, but that's interesting."  
**

 **What do you think will happen with JD and Veronica's physical and mental states? Tell me through the reviews or PMs! I love reading your opinions on this stuff. :)**

 _Responses to Reviews_

Guest - Here it is! Sorry it took so long. I had a lot of schoolwork to do last week.

Thetheatrebookgeek - No problem, and thank you as well. :)

Hypnotic-sleeptalk - Oh my gosh, thank you so much! It took me so long to develop my writing style, and it's nice to know people like it. There will be many waves of emotion in this fanfic, trust me. All I can say is there will be a lot of suffering.

 **Thanks for reading! I hope you have a wonderful day.**


	10. Slushies and Diatribes

**Hello, everyone. Today's chapter is going to be longer than normal, so be ready for a storm of teen angst. Also, I thought I should mention that this story, from this point on, is going to be heavy with themes of self harm and suicide. Just a heads up.**

* * *

April had come and gone, and Heather Chandler had found a quiet little nook in Westerburg history - her locker engraved with a sign signifying the details of her life. No longer did she haunt the halls, making others suffer and cry.

It was like my junior year would end peacefully.

And so it seemed to be true, as a Tuesday night was spent in my room, finishing homework and listening to Joy Division.

I could hear my phone ring from my bedside table.

Sliding towards it on a swivel chair, I picked it up.

"Is this Jason Dean?" the voice asked, heavily shaded in a mellifluous tone.

Realization hit me like a rogue wave, and I crumbled beneath the strength of it all. "Yeah, I am. Is this -"

The voice laughed. "Yes."

Nicholas Clyde Park.

"Holy shit."

"Yeah," he responded. "I wasn't expecting this either."

Silence surged the room, claiming both of our breath. Through the tsunami of awkward tension and unsaid but understood solicitude, I felt the heavy weight of the darkness withdraw from the area. I bit my lip and curled the phone cord around my finger.

"How has Sherwood been treating you?" Nicholas asked out of the blue.

There were two responses I could go with.

It's been fucking terrible/it's been great.

I decided to go for middle ground. "It's been fine," I explained. Silence stirred between us until I glanced over at a framed photo of Veronica and I. "I've, ah, actually got a girlfriend."

"Holy shit - who is she?"

I grinned, laying back onto my bed. "Veronica Sawyer. She's kinda looks like Robin Marston, if you remember her."

Anyone could tell Nicholas was smiling too. "Interesting. And here, Jason, I thought neither of us could get girlfriends."

"Neither did I."

We continued to talk over the course of an hour or so, endlessly sputtering words of fables and narratives of the halcyon years we spent together.

It reminded me how much I missed Long Beach. How much I missed Nicholas. The nights we spent listening to Def Leppard and The Cure. Ranting and cursing and smoking. Wondering why we didn't have crushes on any of the girls at school - why they didn't have crushes on us either. Spending our afternoons in detention for some bullshit stunt we pulled off.

Every sentence felt like it took hundreds of years to calculate and respond to.

That is, until I heard pounding against my window.

I rose up, squinting my eyes to see Veronica. Veiled in a Harrington jacket, she huddled close to the window.

"I'll call you later, Nicholas," I uttered, putting down the phone and racing over. I opened the window as Veronica threw herself inside.

She flopped onto my bed and screamed into a pillow.

I sat by her, uneasy. "You okay?"

Veronica glanced at me. "You wouldn't believe all the shit that's happened to me tonight."

"Shall we, ah, have a little chit chat over at Snappy Snack Shack?" I responded.

For a second, her anger ended abruptly and she smiled. "Yeah. That'd be nice."

o00o

We ended up going to a 7-11 upon her request that we get out of Sherwood. While I sipped a blue raspberry slushie, I listened to her ranting and chugging her cherry slushie.

Veronica paced on the sidewalk, balancing a cigarette on her carmine lips. She blew smoke into the air, watching as it drifted off into the night.

"I'm so fucking done with Heather," she hissed, putting emphasis on the word done. "Kurt and Ram too. Assholes. Last time I do anything nice for that bitch."

I winced at her parade of swearing. Veronica wasn't the one to use more than two - she was too eloquent. "Did he do anything to you?"

"No - they were too shitfaced to do anything. I was able to get McNamara to the car before Ram could get to her."

She muttered _ungrateful bitch_ while throwing her slushie cup into a trash bin.

Veronica continued her tirade, waving her hands and her face altering emotions on every other sentence.

I had grown used to her reckless behavior from these past few weeks. The once highly sympathetic girl I once knew had transformed into a stubborn and passionate person. It was a scary thought - but barely a week passed before I immediately familiarized myself with her new persona. Gone was the heart of Westerburg innocence - now there was a gifted, brilliant Saint Peter guarding the gates to absolution.

And as I looked to hear and surveyed her appearance, I saw it in her. It had installed a sense of fear within me, and I shivered in the cold air.

On that note, my hand moved towards her jawline, and I kissed her.

We separated for a second, and she simply smiled at my starry eyes.

She promptly pulled me closer, kissing and nipping at my neck, lip and jawline. I dropped my empty slushie cup, instead reaching for her waist.

Her scent of musty cigarette smoke and sharp citrus wavered in the air, replacing the faint aroma of slushies on my trench coat. I was slightly taken aback of my epiphany that nonsmokers didn't like the taste and smell of cigarettes - something I could never comprehend. In the moment, all I craved was tobacco.

Soon enough, both of us were pinned against a 7-11 wall, the dusky light illuminating her dark locks of hair. A mischievous grin curled upon her face as we heard the disgusted scoffs of passersby. I glanced over at them before she gripped me tighter, forcing my head to face hers.

"Dork," she mumbled between kisses.

"Veronica," I whispered. "My dad's gonna notice I'm gone by now."

Veronica stopped, her eyes warm and licentious. "Total mood killer."

I stumbled towards my motorcycle, signaling for our departure. She followed, her light skin still flushed after our encounter.

"C'mon, let's not go back," Veronica groaned. "This is our chance to get away from those dipshits for a while."

I hesitated, squinting at the bright lights of the foreign town.

"It's a school night," I explained. "We'll never get any sleep if we don't go home."

Pouting, she reluctantly winded her arms around my waist. Veronica mumbled unintelligible swears, earning a slight smile from me. I stifled my laughter, which made her grow only more annoyed. "Shut up!"

We sat like this for a long time, breathing each others' scents and staring out into the night sky.

Just as I was about to start the engine, she leaned closer into me. I tensed at her movements, shifting my gaze to meet hers.

Veronica's face was blank - her once beaming expression evaporated and replaced with an eerie complexion. She grabbed my hand, clutching it as if I was headed to become death's company. "I love you, JD."

Her words burned into my skull, bubbling and warming the bleak darkness.

I nodded, closing my eyes as our foreheads touched. Like I was on cue, I immediately responded with a soft warble. "I love you too, Veronica."

"I'm glad you're mine now," she added quietly.

Although the words were edged with sincerity and sugar, it left a bitter taste in my mouth. Many would fine that endearing - I thought the same thing after that croquet match - but I found it creepy.

Something in my head nagged at me, saying _'there's something not right with her'_ and shouting _'you need to move away before you get attached or worse'._

I drove off towards Sherwood, tossing the thoughts on the littered asphalt.

o00o

May 4th. Thursday - 10 P.M.

Veronica phoned me to inform Kurt and Ram were still being dumbasses.

"I can't believe it, how could they say something like that? A sword fight, really," she complained. "Like I'd even go near those two fucks."

I listened to her rant as I listlessly scribbled down answers to homework from Ms. Brun's calculus class. This scenario had become commonplace in our relationship.

She barked my name loudly, causing my hand to slip across the paper - imprinting a sharp graphite line over my calculations and answers.

"Are you listening, JD?" she repeated.

I sighed and erased the line. "Yeah. I am."

I pushed the stack of papers into my binder and tuned back into the call. "What were you saying?"

She huffed, and as I imagined, flipped her hair in irritation. "I was asking if I could come over on Friday."

"Why?"

"Because we were going to go on another date - and I'd like to keep my mind off of Kurt and Ram."

I looked at my calendar, scanning through marked dates. Alongside the bold print letters I had written detailing due dates for homework and the like, copperplate words were scratched in cobalt blue - another 'official' date.

She had written that over a month ago.

I felt slightly guilty for forgetting about the date completely, with it being the only colored letters in the entire calendar.

I bit the edge of the end of my pencil. "Do you want to go?"

Veronica seemed to pause at the moment as if I just asked her a complicated algebra equation. A heavy sigh was followed. "I'd love to. You're the only one I want to see right now."

Putting my things into my school backpack, I leaned back into my chair and sat in silence, listening to the faint crinkling of the line.

And my dad watching reruns of M*A*S*H. Loudly, as it proved to sounding like it was playing in this room.

I reached over for the photographs of us, skimming through each one. The photos pictured scenes of us ranging from standing and sipping slushies at a 7-11 or Snappy Snack Shack to posing near movie posters at the local theatre.

I stopped at a particular one - it featured us sitting in the park. As I held the camera, both of us stood in front of an oak tree and kissed. Although these photos were nowhere near professional, I still doted on them.

"You have no idea," I mumbled monotonously, staring at the photographs scattered in my hands. "How much I want to see you too."

Veronica chuckled. "Our love is god, Jason Dean."

* * *

 **Looks like we have a lot to go over on this chapter...**

 **More character development! Hooray!** **JD and Veronica have a bit more action in this chapter. For better, or for worse? No doubt that he's enraptured. What do you think of their dynamic? - and do you think it will last?**

 **What do you think of Nicholas so far? I've mentioned him a couple of chapters ago (unnamed and named), so he didn't come out of nowhere.**

 **Looks like Kurt and Ram are in hot water now thanks to Veronica. Not the best idea to piss off, as JD would say, the new judge of Westerburg.**

 **I thought it would be nice to explain the appearances of the characters, as this is a mix between the movie and musical. (JD's description will be the longest because he probably won't describe himself on full-on detail.)**

JD: Based on the appearance of Ryan McCartan, Dan Domenech, and Christian Slater. (A bit darker skinned than Veronica, slightly curly dark brown hair, and hazel-ish green eyes. I was gonna go for full musical portrayals, but seriously, have you seen Christian's eyes?) Personality is mixed between all three portrayals, and yes, his attitude is more musical than movie JD when it comes to Veronica.

Veronica: Solely based on Winona Ryder's portrayal. However, personality-wise, she's still cold and sarcastic, but she can be a bit emotional (as hypnotic-sleeptalk stated) when it comes to JD.

Heather M: Mainly Lisanne Falk but a little bit of Elle McLemore sprinkled in. Personality-wise? Still prefer the movie for the personality, but she's got her musical counterpart's insecurity.

Heather C: Based on Kim Walker's portrayal.

Heather D: Mixed with Shannen Doherty and Alice Lee's portrayals.

 **If you want to know the other characters' appearances, let me know!**

 _Responses to Reviews (Thanks for 12 reviews! I love reading your guys opinions.)_

Jasmemem - Thank you! As I always say, I love to update this fanfic as soon as possible for you guys! :)

SweetRiceball20 - Yeah, he's been going through some tough times recently. And I'm glad that you noticed the blue outfit! However, she does wear blue at the funeral...But, yes, color does have a bit of symbolism in this fanfic. I'd like to see your opinions on what they mean.

Peonies-Not-Ponies - Let's just say I'm not planning to have JD get involved with any other girls (Yes, I'm saying if McNamara has a relationship with him, it's gonna be strictly platonic). Veronica's got him wrapped around her thumb, so even if he felt anything for anyone besides her, she'd obliterate them.

 **Stay safe.**


	11. Quarrels

**Note: I added some other warnings in the notes for the first chapter. Typical terribleness from movie JD might be installed into Veronica's character, so be warned.**

* * *

I rose that Friday morning with the notion that, since the school year was drawing to a close, Kurt Kelly and Ram Sweeney would ease on nitpicking people. Let me have a pleasurable school day for once in Sherwood, Ohio.

After the last day? I could watch horror movies and drink slushies. Smoke cigarettes. Read books. Graduate. Go to college. Live out the rest of my life with Veronica.

However, my hasty conclusions were proven false.

After an argument in second period with me refusing to let Ram copy some of my answers for finals, he and his slightly more intelligent friend approached me after school.

I was taking Les Misérables from my locker and stuffing it into my backpack when Kurt slammed the door shut.

"Hey, fuckface," Kurt sneered. Ram lingered behind him like some sort of shadow.

I put on my backpack and started to walk away. Ram grabbed my shoulder, tossing me into the lockers. He leaned into my face. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Away from this hellhole, I'd imagine."

"Oh, so you think you're smart now. Tell me, why didn't you give my buddy Ram here your answers?"

I shrugged. "Didn't feel like telling anyone - I'd rather not get caught. The last day is about two weeks away, and I'd like to become a senior."

"Oh, so you were gonna narc me out?"

As I glanced around, I noticed that people were gathering. They whispered among themselves, staring me dead in the eye. Heather Duke was one of them. She watched me with snake-like eyes, holding her book, Moby Dick, to her chest. "Yeah. Guess I was."

He laughed, shaking his head. "Just as I thought. Shit, I thought you were smart as Veronica - but I guess you're just another pothead."

I shifted uncomfortably under his weight, slowly and surely flickering my gaze from the floor to his eyes.

We stared at each other for what must of been ten seconds - although it felt like hours.

He bared his teeth like a mad wolf, snarling.

"Anything else to say before before I beat your ass, pretty boy?"

I narrowed my eyes and smirked. "Bite me."

Ram punched me as hard as he could muster the strength to.

And the fight commenced.

I managed to organize a routine. Dodge.

Punch.

Block.

Kick.

Throw another punch.

This continued for another minute or so - before Kurt managed to restrain me. At that moment? I was a human punching bag.

Blood dribbled down my face, staining the fabric of my trench coat. People gagged and screamed, running in different directions. Heather Duke stayed put - either out of fear or out of hope that she'd be considered a witness and be interviewed.

All I could compute that was the room was a mass of chaos as the three of us tried to overpower each other, kicking and scratching and writing. I could feel my ankle twist, and, at that moment, I let out a pain-induced cry. The two chuckled and backed away. They admired their work like they had created a renaissance masterpiece.

The world faded around me as the barks of teachers erupted from the halls.

o00o

Ram and Kurt were suspended for three days after the fight.

If I wasn't considered bedridden in my room during those three days, I would've celebrated. Sadly enough, thanks to the efforts they made to make me miserable, I spent those days reading old books and poems. Sipping the slushies McNamara had generously gave me. Staring into space.

However, on the second day, I was awoken to the shape of Veronica paused in the doorway.

I lifted my head off of my pillow, grimacing as light trickled into the room as she creaked open the door.

Veronica looked undeniably tired - her eyes drooping and posture slouched.

She ambled towards me, dragging my backpack over shoulder.

"Here," she croaked, "Found it in a ditch behind Westerburg."

I observed it's contents, noting the sodden notebooks and papers. I cringed as I pulled out meticulous notes I had taken over a few months, now smeared with ink or speckled with dirt. Some items, however, deemed to be recoverable. Pencils and pens still wrote, a calculator still turned on, and my binder still dry enough to pass.

But one thing was missing from the bag.

Its companions still sat in the bag - prose and poems from Emily Dickinson, Les Misérables and Lord of the Flies.

I searched around the contents of the backpack, hoping for the thick book to appear magically.

"What are you looking for, JD?"

I peeked at Veronica, before returning to the search. "I can't find it."

"Can't find what?" she asked. She sighed and narrowed her eyes.

"My book - it's an Edgar Allen Poe poem book. I had it with me before the fight."

Veronica snatched the bag from me, digging around it before looking back up with a scowl.

I brushed a hand through my hair, glancing away at the wall. "They took it, didn't they?"

She pursed her lips, paused for a nanosecond, and reached for me. She stroked my jawline, submersed in thought.

"Who did you fight?" she asked curtly.

"Ram and Kurt," I confessed. "Ram wanted to copy my test and I refused to let him."

Veronica tensed, her fingernails digging into my skin. When she saw me wince, she mumbled sorry and continued to caress lightly. "He probably took it, JD. I can go over to his house and take it for myself -"

"He'll probably expect that," I blurted. "I mean, you have been really aggressive these past few days."

She froze. "More aggressive?"

Veronica climbed into the bed, positioning herself to face me. Her face was inches away from mine.

"Really?"

I shyed away from her gaze. "Kind of."

An assemblage of emotions flared in her eyes. "How so?"

Veronica's pose was inhospitable now. Her cold, unsteady breaths grazed my face, creating a shiver in response.

"Its just that," I stuttered, trying my best to meet her eyes. "You've been weird ever since Heather Chandler's death."

She raised an eyebrow.

"You punched Sandra Wakefield for bumping into you."

"That girl pushed me. She was obviously trying to piss me off!" Veronica snapped, her deadpan air fading.

Veronica was now intertwined with me, oblivious to how much her weight stung the bruises and scratches on my skin. She gripped my chin and clenched her teeth. "I'm fine, JD," she hissed. "I always have been."

"Are you sure?" I managed to utter before she cut me off with a kiss.

She shifted few centimeters back and separated from me. She ran her fingers through my hair, smiling softly. "I'm just trying to protect you, Jace. From all those shitheads in Sherwood."

But, even though it was obvious how fake that smile and her words was, it convinced me more than anything else could.

How could Veronica ever do something like that? She obviously cares about me.

I ignored the thought of manipulation and buried my face in her velvety, citrus-scented dark hair. As she seemed to relax and beam at my reaction, she kissed my forehead.

"We're so much better than all of them," Veronica exclaimed, her eyes gleaming like a bonfire.

I could only wrap an arm around her shoulder and look out the window.

"Uh-huh, darling."

"No, we are," she insisted. "Trust me on this one. For once! You and I have a chance to get rid of all these idiots. We could live together - with no one else to bother us."

With a slight shake of my head, I rolled directly towards her and tried to give her the notion that I was trying to sleep again.

"Jace..."

It certainly agitated me to realize how similar the both of sounded. The potent, brazen spiels, the flirtatious remarks, and the confident air...

My eyes opened slightly. "Just - we can deal with this shit in the morning. Just get some sleep, all right?"

Veronica seemed to protest for a good ten seconds, before moving her body to settle next to mine.

I weaved Veronica and I's limbs together, painfully, as it proved that my bruises and gashes still stung. But, I laid my head next to her's, I could feel the heat rising off her skin.

Whatever was being debated in her befuddling mind, I could tell she was either calculating a plan or just plain pissed.

Knowing her - knowing me? Probably both.

* * *

 **Looks like Veronica's not too happy. I wonder what'll happen...**

 **If you're wondering: Jace is a nickname. I assume that Veronica and JD have a strong enough relationship for her to call him names other than JD. (Although I'm sure JD probably hates people calling him anything other than his initials...)**

 **Sorry I didn't update sooner. School been a hassle, and I have a book report to write + three vocab tests I need to study for...But I am currently sick, so I was able to work on this enough to get it finalized and published. The next chapter might be in awhile (I'll try to update by next Thursday or sooner.)**

 **Before I close off this chapter, I'd like to thank my friend 2tiredtoday2hate for helping me out with this fanfic. She's been amazing with helping me finalize concepts and developing ideas.**

 _Responses to Reviews_

Jasmemem - Thanks so much! Nice to know you're enjoying these chapters so far :)

Hypnotic-sleeptalk - To be honest, I might've read your review about five times over...I'm seriously flattered! I just read a bunch of old books, and the vocabulary from those just kind of transfer over. Even though Veronica and JD are being changed majorly, I want to stay true as possible to their characters - and, as long as I can help it, I'll never abandon this fanfic. Thanks for your support!

 **Thanks for reading! Have a wonderful day.**


	12. Disquiet

**First things first: This fanfic has 29 favorites and 32 followers. (16 reviews as well!) Where did you guys come from? I mean, I began this fanfiction with the notion that I'd get a couple favorites and followers, maybe one or two reviews, and that'd be fine. Seriously, guys, thanks for tagging alongside me on this train wreck...**

 **Enough with the mushy stuff. Let's get back to the fanfic, shall we?**

* * *

McNamara started to hang out with me more often than usual.

It started with brief conversations in Lockwood's class, but soon escalated to frequent visitations at my house.

I'd be doing some chore or favor for my dad and she'd burst in the door. The blonde would detail some scandal that'd happened between our fellow classmates - most often Veronica - and what happened afterwards.

Honestly, those petty confabs weren't that unbearable. McNamara, after describing the hot topic of the day, would opt for a small chat over slushies or while watering houseplants.

McNamara, to my surprise, was proving to be a tolerable companion.

Tonight would've been that night with McNamara if Bud Dean wasn't home - for the first time in a week or so.

I was stacking and labeling different containers of food, hastily tossing the items into the fridge. My dad sat at the counter, watching me out of pure boredom. "What's all this for?"

I glanced up at him, listlessly putting away the meals. "Don't you remember what I told you?"

He blinked once. "No. I usually space out when you're talking to me."

With a roll of my eyes and a scoff, I hastily explained my plight. "Nicholas contacted me recently, and -"

"Nicholas? Wasn't he your boyfriend or some shit?"

I froze and stared at my father.

Bud Dean remained silent and apathetic. He flicked through pages of the newspaper, skimming through tedious articles. It was almost like he didn't express something that would make my abuela faint in an instant. Make my family have an absolute crisis.

It took longer that I thought it would to respond.

"He wasn't," I asserted, carefully pronouncing my words like I was walking on a thin pane of glass. "He's just my friend."

He nodded slowly, unconvinced.

I sighed. "Anyway, he's visiting relatives in Indiana and he wants me to tag along. It's just for a week, and you agreed I could. So I'm preparing you enough sloppy joes and a casserole to last a few days."

He wrinkled his face, putting down his newspaper. "I think I'll stick with fast foods. Anything is better than your cooking."

"Heather McNamara likes it," I pointed out.

"Like that's an achievement," my father shot back, laughing. "That bitch is desperate as hell. I can tell."

I grimaced at his remark, bit my lip, and shut the fridge. If there was one person I despised the most at that minute, it'd be my father.

Just looking at him made me sick to my stomach. I glanced down at the floor, refusing to make eye contact with him.

Then the kitchen phone rang.

My dad sluggishly reached for it, pressing the receiver to his ear. He monotonously greeted the caller, sputtering languid words.

He beckoned me over.

I made my way over and grabbed the phone from him. I leaned against counter. "This is Jason Dean."

"JD, come to my house, now," Veronica addressed, her tone uneasy.

I knitted my brows and frowned. Whenever she had that tone, it was usually because she did something.

"Is there something wrong?"

"Over here. Now."

"Listen, Veronica, darling -" I managed to utter before she hung up.

My dad scanned my face before snickering. "Damn, Jason. Even your 'girlfriend' bosses you around."

"Veronica's my girlfriend. You met her," I insisted.

I stayed silent and walked to the mud room.

Bud Dean continued to go on his usual speeches.

"Jason, it's not a secret anymore - it never was. She's your first girlfriend, and you're seventeen for fuck's sake. I'm surprised your mother didn't even suspect it - she always yammered on about going to those fucking rallies. Like there'll ever be equality."

Looking back at him, I hastily put on my trench coat and turned up the collar. "Then tell everyone. Like I give a shit about our family."

"No use. Last time I saw those fucks was at your mother's funeral. They'd just wave it off, claiming that I was the devil trying to persuade them to hate you."

I opened the door.

"Whatca doing, Jason? Going to 7-11 to cry over a slushie - or are you going to find another guy to make out with?"

The last thing I heard before I left the house was him grumbling _fucking fag_ after me.

o00o

When I rang the doorbell to Veronica's house, her mother answered almost instantly.

She eyed me up, noting my fashion choice.

Or the fact that I was standing in pouring rain without an umbrella or the like. "Can I help you?"

I shifted in my place. Her voice seemed too fake to sound pleasant. "Could you, ah, get Veronica?"

Veronica's mother inched back, allowing me to step inside. "Of course. You can leave your coat on the coat rack if you'd like."

Before I could mumble a no thanks, the older woman strutted down the hall, facing upstairs. She leaned on the hand railing and screeched, "Veronica!"

The aforementioned teenager replied with the same tone. "What?"

The woman spun towards me. "Really. You can take off your coat."

"I'd rather not," I blurted. "I'm always cold, so..."

"Uh-huh."

Veronica slid down the stairs. As usual - she looked undeniably tired. Under the veil of makeup, a hint of her eye bags sunk on her face. "I wish you wouldn't do that. Seriously. Just tell me what you want -"

She took one glance at me and smiled. "Jace."

"Is this the elusive Jason Dean?"

Veronica grinned. "Sure is."

"Well, he's," her mother half stammered, half laughed, "Quite an interesting candidate."

Veronica simply shrugged, grabbed my hand, and dragged me upstairs. Her mother craned her neck, watching me with a suspicious glare.

"So, why did you call me?" I asked, slipping into her room.

She turned towards me. "First, take off that coat. You're soaking wet."

I obliged and laid it on a chair.

A quick smile flashed on her face. I pulled down the sleeves of my plaid shirt, covering the faint bruises from my encounter with Kurt and Ram.

Veronica sat on her bed, shuffled through her nightstand's drawers, and pulled out a book. She then proceeded to hold it up for me to see.

A book of Edgar Allen Poe's poems. It was a bit more tattered than before, but it was in better shape than my other recovered books.

I took it from her and looked through it. It still contained all of its pages. I checked the inside of the cover - scribbles and sketches in my faded handwriting remained.

She had found it. While I was passed out, apparently Kurt and Ram ran and chucked my bag in a ditch behind Westerburg. Veronica had found it, thankfully - with the other novels and journals had remaining in my backpack. But, this one was had been missing.

How did she manage to find it in such good condition?

"How did you get this, Veronica?"

She smiled and simply stated, "Let's just say Kurt and Ram won't be graduating tomorrow."

My heart starting pounding and I looked at her uneasily.

"Did you?..."

Veronica nodded. "Yes."

I staggered backwards, dropping the book. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

She widened her eyes, her smile forming into a befuddled frown. She tried to reach out to me, but I quickly lurched away again. "Jace, what do you mean?"

"What do I mean," I mimicked softly, before launching into full blown shouting that could rival my father's voice. "What don't I mean? Veronica, you can't kill whoever and whenever you want!"

Her concerned and confused look diluted to a scowl. "Oh, really. You think I'm doing this for fun?"

Veronica stormed towards me, grabbed the collar of my shirt, and, albeit with a struggle, dragged me to the wall. She leaned into my face. "I'm doing this for you. _They hurt you._ "

I didn't know whether to punch her or make a break for the window. "For me?" I growled. "I didn't ask for this. Those fucks were terrible people, sure, but they didn't deserve an early sentence to the grave..."

She narrowed her eyes at me and pushed me away. She crossed her arms and leaned against her armoire.

I looked up at her and returned her glare.

Silence.

Veronica took a deep breath. "Do you think Ram and Kurt would've done anything for Sherwood after high school? _For society?_ "

She stepped closer. "You said it yourself, JD. These kinds of people are a stain on the name of the human race."

Another step. "Think about it."

"It's not our job to fix the world."

"But we can try, Jace. We can try - you think I want to deal with all this crap?"

Silence graced the room and she took a couple more steps. "I just - I'm done with all this bullshit. I want to do stupid shit like other teenagers. But we can't. We aren't like them - not anymore."

The brunette sat across from me, her small frame barely highlighted by the soft light. She crossed her legs and stared out the window, tapping her wine red nails on the sill.

Rain pattered against the foggy glass, creating a melody of drumbeat-like murmurs. Veronica's cat arose, soon striding towards her. He purred loudly, outmatching the dedication of the cloudburst.

The tabby lumbered over to me, rubbing his head on my leg.

To an outsider, the scene must've looked fine - pleasant even. The rain created a serene atmosphere and the cat provided a comforting presence.

But, if someone had been in the same room as I was when the conversation began, they'd too be petrified by the apparitions that Veronica brought with her.

I took my seat next to her. She seemed to notice this, as her cold form stirred. She glimpsed at me and brushed her hair out of her face.

Veronica's brown eyes melted into a brew of hurt and desperation. "You trust me, right?"

Hesitation brewed in my mind like a steaming witch's cauldron, bubbling anxiety and fear. Did I? Sure I loved her, but that doesn't mean that I had blind faith. Veronica was a terrible person.

So was I.

Heather Chandler was rotting in the ground because of the both of us. Ram and Kurt would soon join her.

I thought of cheesy romance and thriller novels describing partners-in-crime. Examples from history - Bonnie and Clyde.

All we were was a pair posed to show the worst of humanity.

I closed my eyes for a millisecond. "Yeah. I do."

"You'll see, JD," she declared in almost a whisper. "All of this will be for the better in the long run."

A razor-thin smile creased her face.

 _What would happen if she tried to go after someone else?_ I thought. _It could happen. Could Sherwood handle another so called suicide?_

No - she'll be fine. I'll be fine. If she tried anything, I would make her get help.

Maybe she just needed a second chance.

Just as it looked like she was about to say something, her mother peeked in the room. "What's all this noise about -"

She took one look at the both of us.

"Oh, are you two doing okay?"

Veronica's cat jumped on my lap, letting up a rumbling purr.

I glanced at Veronica. She nodded swiftly, coughed, and smoothed her blouse.

"Seems so," her mother concluded. "All right. Don't do anything stupid, honey. I'll be checking on you two later."

"We won't," Veronica called out as her mother closed the door.

I waited a few seconds before addressing the brunette again. "Where are they?"

"Somewhere in the backwoods, maybe? You'll see it all over the news tomorrow anyway, Jace," Veronica explained, before taking a deep sigh. "Wanna take a break from the all that crap and watch _Back to the Future_ with me?"

With knitted brows, I nodded slowly. She dropped the topic like we were having a debate which soda brand was the best - pointless and boring. "That'd be nice."

Veronica's laugh seem to say _now that's the spirit!_

* * *

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Ram and Kurt were the next victims of Veronica. It didn't play out like the movie and musical did, however. I wonder what happened...**

 **Junior year is drawing to a close. What do you think'll happen to the characters in senior year?**

 **Also, I mentioned Veronica's cat because, according to the trivia section of Heathers in IMDb, one version of the script involved Veronica having a tabby cat. (Not sure if the information on there is true, but I'd check it out. Interesting stuff).**

 _Responses to Reviews:_

KaosOtaku - You're not the only one who's captivated by this fanfic! (In other words, I am too.)

 **Have a wonderful day.**


	13. Repetitive Grief

**Sorry I didn't post this sooner! I had a lot of stuff to do, and it's been really stressful...Forgive me.**

* * *

Something about McNamara's writhing, sobbing form seemed to cause me to feel more than guilt. I couldn't tell if it was the mascara running down her cheeks, or the bitter cries she emulated - but something caused me to approach her.

Graduation day was moved to Tuesday, which left us stuck in Mrs. Lockwood's fifth period. The sudden deaths called for another brief grief session.

"Hey, Heather," I murmured. She turned her head slowly, brushing the frizzed blonde hair back away from her face. "You doing all right?"

The blonde sniffed, wiping away the tears from her face. "I - I just can't believe it."

I inched my chair towards her and leaned against the desk.

McNamara slowly moved towards me, wrapping her bony arms around me. Tears dribbled down her blazer and her canary yellow nails dug into my skin.

"First Heather drinks drain cleaner, then Veronica goes haywire, and now Kurt and Ram commit double suicide?"

I rubbed her back.

"What's happening to Westerburg, JD?" Heather sobbed. "It's like we pissed off something - or someone!"

Taking a few seconds to breath, I bit my lip. "Maybe these weren't suicides. You know, like the news said. Like, uh, double murder or whatever?" I suggested.

McNamara seemed like she wanted to agree, but her stiff form softened and she continued to cry. "That's ridiculous, JD. What happened, then? No one at Westerburg would be stupid or brave enough to even do anything to them! Or each other!"

I nodded softly. "Never mind - You're right."

As her tears began to soak my plaid shirt, I winced. This new 'empathy' thing was tiring. Veronica was an easier figure to comfort - she'd cry for a couple minutes, wipe her face, and then demand a cuddling session over some movie. The brunette would stare intensely at the movie, debate theories about the plot line before switching to murmuring quotations from poets of English and French origins to me...A typical scene from a cheesy romance.

Meanwhile, Heather preferred to blabber on and on about her feelings.

As McNamara continued to do just that, I spaced out and thought about the coming days. The trip to Indiana would have to be delayed for a day or two - there was Kurt and Ram's funeral to attend and Heather to comfort over her boyfriend's death.

Would Nicholas be disappointed? Hopefully not. Knowing him, he'd just brush it off and change the conversation's topic. A trait I had grown to hate and admire over the years.

I sighed. She was still crying. As I searched for something to my mind to say to help her feel better, I blurted, "I understand how it feels, Heather. I've lost someone too."

"Who?" she asked, sniffling.

I looked away from her. "My mother. She, ah, didn't like pop's line of work, so she blew out of there...Literally."

"How old were you?"

"Around fourteen..." I stated slowly and quietly. As I bit my lip, I continued. "...It was hell, without her. She'd play shit like _Itchycoo Park_ and _Twist and Shout_ in the car every time we moved. Now my dad doesn't turn on music or anything and we just sit in silence. For hours - sometimes up to a day."

A frown graced my face. "When she died, the music died. Like that one song - _American Pie_."

"Well, yeah, but at least she didn't turn out to be a murderer or something," McNamara pointed out.

I glanced down at the floor and fumbled with my cigarette carton in my pocket. "At least you didn't lose someone major. High school boyfriends come and go - mothers don't."

Our conversation seemed to end there as Mrs. Lockwood halted the discussion - until I saw Heather McNamara after school again. As I dragged myself on the walk home, McNamara excused herself from her group of friends.

The yellow trademark blazer was, once again, stained with tears. She clutched her purse and gazed haphazardly around the street, slowly inching to my side. "Sorry I didn't wait for you this time. I don't know. Didn't feel like walking home with you."

"It's a natural part of grief," I replied, faking an empathetic frown for her. "You don't enjoy doing things you did before."

She sighed and shook her head, slowly bringing her gaze to meet mine. "I guess you're right."

Tension faded from the air as I plucked a Marlboro from the pack and held it out towards her. She murmured _what else do I have to lose,_ snatched it, and waited for me to light it.

"Would you have guessed that Kurt and Ram could do something like that, JD?"

I shrugged and lighted her cigarette. "Kinda. They were really fucking aggressive, you know."

"Oh, god," McNamara replied, wiping away her tear stains with her sleeve. "I had no idea. Sure, they beat you up, but I didn't think they were capable of suicide! That's like, extreme!"

I cringed at her sentences. Everyone believed Veronica, apparently.

As we walked down towards our neighborhood together, McNamara sniveled up her face and coughed. "How can you handle these things? They're terrible!"

"With practice, it isn't so bad," I assured her. "Have you smoked before?"

The blonde shook her head and put out the cigarette. "No, I haven't. Heather thought it was gross so I never even tried...But thanks for the cigarette, I guess. It kinda helped."

She sniffled. "Wanna make some chocolate chip cookies? I found a really good recipe in my grandmother's old cook books."

Even though this was all technically Veronica's fault, I felt partly responsible for the whole thing. What else could I do except...

I nodded, throwing my bag over my shoulder. "Sounds great, Heather. We can watch 'Ghostbusters' after that, if you want."

McNamara grabbed my hand and smiled. "Yeah...I'd like that."

o000o

Ram Sweeney and Kurt Kelly were found dead on May 28th, 1989 in the backwoods. Apparently, it had been murder. But, not at the hands of a coldblooded killer, no...

They had gotten into a fight and 'Kelly was stabbed in his lower back, while Sweeney was shot in the neck and head'. Kurt had stolen his father's gun and Ram had used his knife. They had killed each other.

I was told this a couple days later - thanks to Veronica.

How? Well, she crept into my room, parted the curtains a bit, walked over to me and uttered...

"Jesus Christ, all you is sleep these days! Wake up!"

I opened my eyes a bit and stared blankly at her. "Good morning to you too."

"Today's the funeral," Veronica grumbled, crawling onto the bed next to me. "And we'll be late if you don't get up. Throw a frown on and fake some tears, JD."

I sighed and bit my lip, glancing off into the side. I didn't like Kurt or Ram. Everyone knew that at this point - why would anyone expect me to be there for them? "Is this really that much of an important event, Veronica? Don't think anyone would notice if we happened to be absent."

She shook her head. "Heather Duke and Heather McNamara would notice. They're always on my back."

"Uh-huh," I murmured, rubbing my neck. "All right, fine. Give me a second."

I hopped off the bed and stumbled towards my dresser, trying to mask the fact that I had barely gotten a wink of sleep the night previous. Veronica remained on my bed, her legs crossed and her eyes watching, like a hawk, around the bedroom.

Today was going to be a long day.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Today's chapter was pretty subtle in the plot, but I'm sure that JD and McNamara's relationship will be pretty important in this fanfic...I wonder why...**

 **Also, next week's chapter will be much longer. It'll cover Ram and Kurt's funeral among other things.**

 _Response to Reviews_

DisneyDreamer123: As you read, it didn't exactly turn out like the musical and movie did. Remember, this Veronica is different from canon JD...

Jasmemem: Ah, thank you so much! C:

Miller Memestar: So am I. I wonder what Veronica's plan is...

Megan: Will do!

 **Have a good night/day!**


	14. Apprehension

**I'm so sorry for the infrequent updates! I still have a bunch of tests to do.**

* * *

I still had no idea why I was going there.

Even after Veronica dragged me to that church, I didn't understand why she cared so much. She had killed them - what was the point? To gloat over her success?

"C'mon, Jason," the brunette muttered, frowning. She was already dressed for the funeral - a coat dress paired with kitten heels and rose lipstick. Heather Chandler's red scrunchie was on her wrist. "We can't be late!"

I raced down the stairs, sighing. "All right, all right..."

Apparently, it wasn't even morning at that point. It was just another one of my pathetic attempts to get a morsel of sleep - which consisted of me mainly wasting almost the entire day passed out. Veronica was like my natural alarm clock, thankfully.

Before I could say anything to her, she brushed a comb through my hair and ruffled it. She lightly kissed my cheek before backing away. She tapped my shoulder as she passed by. "Remember, good impressions are key in Sherwood."

These days, it seemed like I relied a lot on Veronica - this scene a prime example. I had noticed that I started to forget simple procedures that I was usually insistent on completing, such as combing through my hair. But, ever since Chandler's death, my efforts slowly decreased little by little.

Her heels clacked against the glossy hardwood floors as she waited by my front door, arms crossed. Veronica wasn't in the mood for debating, I could tell.

I slipped on a pair of chuck taylors and followed her out the door. "When does it start again - the funeral?"

Veronica looked back at me. "Thirty minutes," she said curtly. "But we should get there early if we want to afford a parking space. Whole school's coming."

The lukewarm blasted against my face, and I took a deep breath. Another break from the blistering heat. My neighbors all around us continued watering and tending to their gardens as if a serial killer and her boyfriend didn't just strut out of a shabby house.

All I said was 'huh' before I went to Veronica's car and opened the door and sat in the passenger's side. Veronica got in the driver's seat and started the car.

We sat in eerie silence for a while as she pulled out of the driveway, moving to the church's direction. In efforts to make things less awkward, I switched on the radio.

'Another One Bites The Dust' played. I could hear Veronica stifle her laughter next to me. I huffed and changed the station to 'Hey Jude'.

"Too bad you changed it," the brunette commented, glancing at me. I had hardly noticed she put sunglasses on as she flashed them at me.

I shrugged. "It's the perfect occasion, but I'm not in the mood," I lied coolly, my reply seemingly satisfying Veronica.

She only nodded and turned her attention back to the road. "While you're at it, I'd change it to Madonna."

I furrowed my brows and glanced at her. "Why?"

Veronica took a deep breath and smoothed her hair, moving her breton hat a bit. "We're carpooling with Heather Duke and Heather McNamara."

"Fuck."

She chuckled a bit and shrugged. "That's the price to pay for being the new queen of Westerburg High."

And I was stuck along for the ride.

o00o

With Green Heather and Yellow Heather in the back seats, Veronica started the car and drove off again. Duke was wearing a black pea coat. McNamara?

Ram's letterman jacket.

 _Why the hell_ was she wearing it? How did she even get it?

I sank into my seat, nervously biting my lip. Maybe McNamara knew what happened to Ram and Kurt, and she was just taunting us before she'd go to the police. No. I was being ridiculous.

Was I?

Veronica looked at me strangely and furrowed her brows. "...Jason?"

"What?" I queried, jolting up. I whipped my head around to look at Veronica. "What is it, darling?"

The brunette frowned. She was getting more concerned by the second. "Are you okay?"

Heather McNamara looked from the window and shifted her gaze to me. Tears were heavy on her eyelids as she clutched a picture of Ram in her hand.

Why did she have his picture? It was clear that those two were just a fling. Not like Veronica and I. They didn't understand what love was. Veronica said so.

"Jason!"

"I'm fine," I assured her, sighing. "Just a little spooked -" I glanced at Yellow Heather again. "- About Kurt and Ram's deaths. Too soon, y'know?"

Veronica's brown eyes flickered with doubt, but her facial expression betrayed her inner emotions. Apathy masked her face easily like camouflage, and she only blinked in response. "Too soon," she agreed after a while, changing the radio to play 'Into the Groove' by Madonna.

McNamara relented and continued to look out at the rolling scenery.

I let out a sigh of relief. Maybe she hasn't guessed. Yet.

o00o

The funeral was dreadfully dull. Duller than Heather Chandler and my mother's funerals combined. Oddly enough, not many people shed tears here - perhaps they had finally seen the error of Ram and Kurt's ways?

Jesus, I sounded like Veronica. That's literally what'd she say.

Soon enough, half way through the dialogue of Kurt's father, Veronica leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Oh, so now you decide to suddenly love your son? What a shocker."

I snickered. "Too bad Mr. Kelly didn't think about the possibility of his son regularly holding something other than a gun in his hand..."

"JD!" she gasped quietly, grinning.

Before we could completely burst out laughing, the sobs of a little girl echoed around the room. Kurt's sister. Veronica cringed and bit her lip, burying her face into my neck. Bad timing.

Why the hell did I laugh?

We spent the remainder of the service sat in absolute silence. We left thereafter without a word.

We decided that we already did enough damage for one day.

As soon as the two of us stepped out of the church and ambled out of earshot, the brunette turned towards me. She grabbed my hand and laced our fingers together as she sat us on a nearby bench.

Only a few passersby strolled by us in the time frame of about five minutes.

"So, Jace...what's the plan for the summer?" she asked curiously.

I shrugged, a jaded air to me. "Eh, nothing special. I'm going to Indiana to spend a couple days there, but...nothing new."

She nodded softly as she listened, the now fiery sunlight highlighting her dark hair. "You're...you're staying for senior year, right?"

I furrowed my brows and tilted my head a bit.A peculiar question. Why would she ask that out of the blue like that? Was...was she planning something? No - she was fine, I was fine. "Well, yeah...Why wouldn't I?"

Veronica merely grinned and pecked my lips. Blush graced my face. "Good," she murmurs, pride obvious in her voice.

My face reddened a bit more as I pulled her closer and she rested her head on my shoulder. God, I loved her. Something about her was just so imperfect.

An imperfect girl for an imperfect boy. Maybe we were both cracked porcelain...

* * *

 **And so, that's the end of Ram and Kurt. As Veronica would say, 'they had it coming'.**

 **JD's starting to really observe the world around him. Weird, huh?**

 **Odd side note: Because of this fanfic, my music tastes have slightly shifted to favoring bands like Joy Division and Madonna...oops?**

 **Another note: I was looking around, and yes, Veronica does have a cat in one version of the script. Looks like I have two scripts to go off of...**

 _Responses to Reviews_

DisneyDreamer123: Yes, I do suppose Veronica saved them ridicule from a homophobic town. However, is that equivalent to having them be known as murderers instead?

 **Thanks for reading! Have a wonderful day.**


	15. Gray Blue

**I'm officially off hiatus! Look forward to more chapters! C:**

* * *

I spent the start of the summer in Indiana. It was a considerably nice change of pace - without Veronica, or the rest of Sherwood, Ohio, it felt like I was still that edgy kid in the corner of the classroom that no one knew. Not Jason Dean, the boyfriend of the incredibly popular, rich, and attractive Veronica Sawyer. The king and queen of Westerburg.

No, that sounds stupid. Let's just say that I didn't feel like the mess I am today. That sounds better.

As soon as I got the chance to leave Sherwood, I did. I said my goodbyes to Veronica and McNamara, asked for each of them to make sure my houseplants wouldn't die, grabbed my bags and took a bus out of the town.

The bus ride was okay. I tried to ignore the blistering heat the bus's shitty air conditioning couldn't subdue, and instead focused on what I'd say to Nicholas when I got there. 'Hey, Nicholas, sorry I haven't talked to you since freshman year. Mind if we can totally be best friends again, even though I'm in Ohio and you're in California?' Yeah, no.

I decided to settle for something more subtle. I could throw a Baudelaire or T. S. Eliot quote his way. That was an easier delivery - and a bit more clever.

Apparently, it took the whole bus ride for me to figure out a meager response to 'Hello, Jason!'

I felt like there was a voice in the back of my head yelling _'_ _Great job, Jesse James! You can actually speak!'_

I figured it was just me. Who else could it be?

Regardless, it eased any tension that lingered between us. He laughed and commented that i was still the socially awkward kid whose only words were quoted from 'The Catcher in the Rye' and or '1984'.

He...wasn't wrong.

I ignored my damaged pride - then again, I didn't have any in the first place - and laughed as well.

We made or way to his family's apartment, dropped off my things in the guest room that Nicholas and I would share, and headed to the park.

The park was cooler than the densely packed, simmering hot streets we walked on.

Nicholas snapped some photos with his Polaroid camera while I collected flowers and saved them in my journal. Veronica wanted something from the city, even if it was just a couple dried wildflowers.

We sauntered along the river for a while, listening to the languid gray blue water creep past. The occasional individual would pass by, a cup of iced tea or another drink in hand. Nicholas looked out to the skyscrapers that towered over the city like coast redwoods, his eyes attentive to each slight change in scenery.

He glanced at me. "So, tell me about Sherwood."

I paused and calculated a response. "Well, it's a pretty small town. The only modern shit they have is a Snappy Snack Shack, a public library, and a drive-in theater."

Nicholas nodded and stopped at a bench, sitting down. His face was written with apathy, and I was getting concerned. Shit, was he getting bored? Maybe he thought I changed too much from senior year. I coughed and stared at my shoes, waiting for the moment he'd start talking instead of me. _'Nice going,'_ the voice in my head scoffed.

He knitted his brows. "Aren't you going to continue, Jason?"

I lifted my head and froze. "Oh, uh...yeah. Sherwood's basically just a cover-up for extensive golf courts and country clubs."

He laughed.

I grinned and put my hands in my pockets, shifting my weight a bit. "The people aren't interesting, either. The only person worth talking to is Veronica."

"I can tell. Our past five phone calls have been centered around her."

Well, technically, he wasn't wrong. I glanced away and nodded slowly.

Nicholas sighed and tried to give a smile. "Well, at least you care about her. You must really like her, huh?"

"I do," I answered almost immediately.

He stood up and started walking again. I joined him.

We walked in silence for a while, listening to each other's footsteps and the distant traffic.

Bitter silence.

Eventually, as we neared the familiar brick apartment building, Nicholas finally spoke. His words were eloquent and curt - a tone that brought me back to a time when I still had some sort of confidence.

"I'm glad you finally moved on."

o00o

A couple days rolled by, and everything seemed to be okay. Indianapolis was proving to tolerable - a rarity these days - and I spent nearly every second with Nicholas.

However, on one odd Thursday evening, I knew something was off.

As the sun sluggishly disappeared beyond the horizon, I sat on the guest room's bed. I was writing in my journal, detailing the past events of the day.

I guess Veronica had left an impression on me.

 ** _JUNE 8TH, 1989._**

 _ **"The past was dead, the future was unimaginable." - '1984', George Orwell, page 28.**_

 ** _Side note: I'm running out of quotes from that book. Hopefully future Jason will read this and find something else to read. I haven't gotten around to reading 'Misery' by Stephen King yet...maybe that'd be a good choice? Maybe it's in Sherwood's library._**

 ** _I'm getting off track._**

 ** _Nothing extraordinarily exciting happened. I mean, fuck - compared to the other entries on here?...Citing May 28th, 1989, of course. I'm getting carried away. Whatever. All Nicholas and I really did was go to Camelot Music and Blockbuster to rent out 'The Exorcist' and 'A Nightmare on Elm Street'._**

 ** _I'm planning to get Veronica and I tickets for a concert. Her birthday is getting pretty close - August 25th. Is a concert too cheesy, though? I've never had a girlfriend, anyway. How the fuck should I know these things?_**

 ** _Also, here's a random thought. I've only seen like three or four Snappy Snack Shacks. Is it just a thing in Ohio and Virginia? There's 7-11s everywhere else...Apparently Nicholas says Snappy Snack Shacks aren't a thing in California, either. Weird._**

 ** _Well, that's really it._**

 ** _\- J.D._**

I closed the notebook and set it on a dresser. Everything felt like it went according to my routine. But, still...I felt like there was something missing.

I suppressed that thought and went into the living room. We watched 'The Exorcist'.

For hours, I ignored that constant, pulsating voice in my head that seemed to scream, _'Aren't you forgetting something, trench coat kid?'_

Doubt clouded my judgement. Was I? Probably not. But there was that nagging reminder...

It took until we were halfway through watching 'Ghostbusters' to realize it.

I haven't talked to Veronica in three days.

She'd freak. I knew that. Fuck, she was probably already freaking out. Maybe she lashed out. Maybe she tried to kill someone else...McNamara and Veronica had an argument after Ram and Kurt's funeral...

 _'Aww, is pretty boy worried about his precious girlfriend? Then again, I thought you said she could do nothing wrong!'_

"I have to go," I said, hastily getting up from the couch.

Nicholas' sister, Joan, furrowed her brows and tilted her head slightly. "...To where?"

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "I need to call someone. Where's the phone?"

It was Nicholas' uncle to speak up this time. "What's the big deal?"

I tensed at that moment. "I, uh...I need to call my girlfriend." ' _Way to sound pathetic.'_

As I messed with the buttons on my flannel, trying to calm any anxiety I had, the uncle spoke up again. He was confused. "...The phone's in the kitchen. Is something wrong?"

I walked into the kitchen, darting towards the phone.

"Just a little bit, yeah." I dialed Veronica's phone number.

It rang.

Veronica picked up. Her voice was diluted to a dull, apathetic tone. She didn't seem too thrilled. "Hello?"

I took a deep breath. "Hey, I didn't -"

"Jason? That's you, right?"

"...Uh, yeah. It is."'

Her voice flared into an orotund, panicked tone. "Thank god! Shit, did you have any fucking clue how worried I was? You said you'd call every other night, at the most!"

I fiddled nervously with the phone cord. God, she was going to kill me. I knew that. "I'm sorry, Veronica...I forgot."

"Y...you forgot?"

Hesitance.

"Yeah, I did. I'm sorry."

Her tone was betrayed, like I had been cheating on her for five years. "How could you forget, Jace? I...I've been sitting here for hours..."

"I'm sorry," I repeated, taking a shaky breath as I noticed that Nicholas' family was staring at me. "I've just been so busy, and -"

Veronica's tone was getting angrier and louder. "You couldn't find the time to call me?"

I flinched. She told me that she couldn't talk to me yesterday night - she was at a party or something with Heather Duke and a bunch of other students. She said that those college parties that she and Heather Chandler attended would have to wait for September or August.

"I thought you were busy," I tried to explain, my words blending together as I spoke. Even though it was partly true, it was a stupid excuse. "You know, with the party at Jacqueline Carr's house?"

She paused for at least ten seconds. The longest seconds of my life, I'd say. "...You have a point, Jace. I'll give you that."

Veronica sighed. "God, I sound like a fucking psycho. Sorry."

I furrowed my brows. Technically, it was my fault. And she sounded normal... What was she talking about? "You don't, Veronica...? It's my fault. I should've called you earlier in the day."

It was Veronica's turn to be confused. "I would've been busy earlier in the day, but..." Her voice was conflicted, as she was probably unsure what to say. "You're forgiven, I guess."

"I'll call you tomorrow."

Silence wavered between us. "Alright, Jace. Anything later than 10 A.M. is fine with me," she says listlessly.

I nodded. "I'll call then."

"Later, Jace."

"Bye, Veronica." With that, I hung up.

Nicholas stood up and slowly walked towards me. "...Is everything alright, Jason?"

"Mhm." I stumbled to the guest room. "Veronica just wanted to talk, that's all. Everything's fine." I added, hastily, "See you tomorrow."

Nicholas hesitated to respond. "Goodnight," he managed to say, turning and sauntering back into the living room.

I closed the door behind me, leaned against it and slumped to the floor. I stared at the wall across from me, as if I was searching for a pattern in the wall.

And, at that moment, I felt like a pair of blue eyes were staring at me. I blinked, but nothing was there.

...Odd.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **JD's been acting a bit strange lately...What do you think's going on?**

 _Responses to Reviews:_

 **There's a bunch of reviews this time for most of the chapters, so I'll compile them here and sort them by chapter. Thanks for these, by the way.**

Trash (Chapter 7): Hmm, can't say. But I do have plans for McNamara and JD...

Trash (Chapter 9): I definitely agree. A lot of these chapters - Veronica and JD, specifically - need to chill.

Trash (Chapter 10): That's partly why I included that line, actually.

Trash (Chapter 11): Honestly, I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not...but thank you! Veronica's really fun to write, and I'm glad you think she's an interesting character.

Trash (Chapter 12): Jesus, i don't want to even imagine. They'd either be six feet under or beaten to a pulp.

Trash (Chapter 13): To be honest, I don't think Veronica's still friendly with Martha or Betty Finn. Now that you mention it, it actually sounds plausible...similar to 'thanks for being my friend. Here's a reward' kinda thing.

Trash (Chapter 14): JD is literally pure in this. He keeps bringing himself down, though :(


	16. Eldritch Conflicts

**This chapter was...a bit difficult to write, to say the least. Heavy topics are ahead. Thank you for being patient with me so far, everyone.**

* * *

"Did you hear the news report?"

"No," I answered, aimlessly flipping through a copy of 'Misery' by Stephen King. "I don't keep up with the news."

Veronica stifled her laughter, her giggles echoing in the room around her. "Call Heather McNamara."

I furrowed my brows, befuddled by her sudden request. Heather never watched the news. "...Why?" I asked, my tone riddled with confusion.

"You'll find out for yourself, babe," she says, her voice peppered with a sweet, honeyed tone.

Was something up? I hesitated and stopped skimming through the book. God, did Veronica do something? Was it another murder? She's so fucking stupid...what if she gets caught? What the hell would I do?

 _'Knowing you, Jesse James? Cry. Wonder why no one really loves you. Wonder why you even try anymore. Hide in your room. Find that razor blade, and...'_

I ignored the voice - I didn't need that negativity at that time. Or ever, really. I rubbed my face and tried to composed myself. "Should I call her right now, or?..."

"Duh."

With that, Veronica hung up.

What the fuck was she planning?

I set the phone down for a few moments and glanced around the kitchen. Nicholas and his family were out today - something about church and going to a bunch of museums. I didn't really give a shit, so I skipped out on it. There really wasn't anything to do around here, so...

Might as well call McNamara. What's the worst that could happen?

I dialed her number and waited for her to pick up.

Eventually, someone answered the phone. It was Valerie - Heather McNamara's mother. The background noise of a tv blaring cartoons and the chatter of children assured me that it was the right number. "May I ask who is calling?"

I sighed. "It's Jason Dean. Heather's friend."

"Jason," she repeatedly softly, as if she was searching through her memory before her voice rose and became cheery. "Oh, Jason from Heather's school? I'm surprised that you called!"

"Can I talk to Heather?" I asked, fidgeting with the phone cord.

Valerie moved away from the phone and chided her children for something. She faced the phone again. "Sorry about that," she swiftly apologized. "Tyler and Michael were fighting over the remote..."

She put on a cheery tone again. "But it's nice you want to check up on Heather. She hasn't been in the best of moods lately...Something to do with Joseph Sweeney's son, Ram?"

I nodded curtly, getting impatient. "That's fine...can I talk to her right now?"

"Sure," Valerie said warmly. "Give me a minute."

With that, she put down the phone and called for Heather McNamara. The sound of two pairs of footsteps grew louder and louder as they neared the phone. "Here she is!" Valerie sang, before the phone was passed over to her daughter.

As McNamara got to the phone, I could hear her sniffling.

"Hey, Heather?" I said carefully, afraid that she would start crying. "...Are you okay?"

"No," she whispers, her voice drastically more hushed than the background. "Kurt...Ram...they're..." She trailed off mid sentence, as if she had gotten distracted or she forgotten what to say.

"They're what? Just say it. I won't judge you," I reassured her, biting my lip. What was wrong?

"Ram and Kurt are gay!"

I widened my eyes, my mouth agape from surprise. They couldn't be gay - I saw them harassing and calling other students faggots and fairies. They even called me faggot a few times. "Are you serious?"

"I am," she said through tears. "Did you see the news report?"

"I didn't...?"

"Well, the police discovered new evidence at the crime scene. They found it hidden under a bush or something - mascara, a candy dish, a Joan Crawford postcard..." She broke into a full out sob. "Even an issue of Stud Puppie!"

...How did that prove anything?

I guess she believed the stereotypes. _'Who doesn't?'_

"What does the police think about it?" I asked, running a hand through my hair.

She sighs. "They think that Ram and Kurt are gay. _Were_ gay, I mean..." Another pause. "...It might be a suicide pact. That's what Duke is guessing."

I screwed up my face. A suicide pact sounds like something Veronica would make up. "What does Veronica think it is? Have you asked her about it yet?"

McNamara sniffles. "I don't know...I haven't really talked about it with her. The news broke out yesterday, and she was hungover...you know how she gets."

The voice laughed. _'God, how stupid are they?'_

McNamara wasn't lying. Veronica went to another party on Friday. Apparently it was at Sandra Wakefield's house - though I had no idea how or why Veronica went there, considering the two girls were enemies at this point - and Veronica had gotten wasted.

I talked to her on the phone that night. Even through her slurred speech and poor vocabulary choices, I was able to decipher that she had a few too many drinks and that Sandra made out with some girl named Melanie.

Veronica had started laughing uncontrollably at that point and I just hung up.

"I'll talk to her, then," I decided, sighing as I bit my lip. "...I'm sure it's nothing, Heather."

Silence fizzed on the line for awhile.

"Jason, can I tell you something?" she asks quietly, almost as if she's afraid to speak.

I nod. "Of course. You can tell me anything."

"...I don't know if I really like...sorry, _liked_ Ram anymore."

"Why?" I queried, leaning against the counter.

"Ram...he didn't listen. To me, I mean," she explained, sniffling. "Like, when we went on that double date with Veronica and Kurt, Ram wanted to...you know. But I didn't, I kept telling him that, and he just -"

McNamara started to cry again. "Listen, Jason. I gotta go. Goodbye."

Before I could say anything more, she hung up.

 _'Drama.'_

A thousand things raced through my mind. Everyone thought that Ram and Kurt were gay - and gay was seen as bad. Great. What a fantastic reminder. But the fact I dwelled on the most?

The fact that Ram, as McNamara probably implied, didn't ask for consent.

 _He didn't ask for consent._

What kind of piece of shit does that? Why the fuck would you even neglect to?

I set the kitchen's phone down, my breath shaky as I tried to contain my anger. He deserved to die.

Now that the issue was brought to my attention, I realized Kurt deserved to die too. I know that now. With what he tried to do when Veronica went on that double date? Unacceptable. Unforgivable, really.

I clenched my teeth, any sliver of empathy gone - like it was a speck of fire, an ember, drifting into the blackened, smoke-filled sky. Like it never existed in the first place.

I know I shouldn't have had felt bad about this. About any of this. All Ram and Kurt were was assholes. No, not just that. They were homophobes...sexists...misogynists...bigots...

The opposite of Veronica. The opposite of me.

Veronica wasn't taking this too far.

I knew that now.

 _'That's fucking edgy, Jason,'_ the voice taunted, cackling in a shrill tone. _'What are you, five? You think the world is black and white?'_

"Could you just shut up for five seconds?" I snarled, gritting my teeth. I was already getting tired of this. "You never shut up!"

 _'Feisty.'_

I thought I saw something for a second - a figure, cloaked in pink. I shivered and stepped away from the phone. "I'm trying to think, alright? Just be quiet for a few seconds."

Everything fell silent. I looked around for any sign of noise or movement. There was nothing but the sound of my breathing.

That...worked?

 _'Time's up. I was generous - it's been twenty seconds.'_

I growled and continued to scan the kitchen for any hint of a figure. "Why are you even here?" I asked, my patience little to none in existence. "Who are you?"

 _'You don't remember?'_ the voice scoffed. _'I'm offended, Jesse James. I really am.'_

I felt someone breathing down my neck. I spun around, whipping my head around wildly.

Then, like I had been struck by lightning, I suddenly froze.

Dressed in a silk pink lemonade bathrobe, stood the late demon queen of Westerburg High -Heather Chandler. With an apple red ribbon tied loosely in her hair and a devilish smirk wreathing her face, she let out a low chuckle. ' _What's wrong, trench coat kid? Wasn't expecting your past mistakes to haunt you?'_

o00o

I couldn't speak. My breath hitched - I was dreaming. I had to be. Heather Chandler was dead. Of course she was dead. There was no way in hell that she could be standing there...

But, there she was. Just...there. She wasn't breathing or blinking - I could see that clearly. Her face was sickly pale, and it was tinted grayish blue. And, as she glided towards me, everything about her movements screamed unnatural.

I knew she was buried, too. She couldn't be alive. Chandler didn't escape. Veronica and I had paid our respects a month or two ago and the grass had begun to grow over the patch of dirt. It didn't look like it was disturbed at all.

I guess I was talking to her ghost, then.

No. I wasn't. I couldn't be.

The only logical explanation? I was dreaming or hallucinating. Chandler wasn't there.

I took a shaky breath and glimpsed at the ghost again. She was getting increasingly bored, I could tell that - her blue gaze was clouded, as if her mind was someone else. Her crooked grin had faded. What the fuck would she do if she got too bored?...Could other people see her?

This was crazy. I was crazy. There's seriously no fucking way that this was possible...I took a couple steps away from her, eventually colliding into the wall.

 _'God, have you ever learned to shut_ _up_?' Chandler groused, sitting up on the counter. _'No wonder you never talk - you're always brooding over something!'_

I looked at her. "...Can you read my thoughts?"

She sighed, nodding. _'Unfortunately. God, I'd rather be haunting Veronica right now. It sounds like her life might be more interesting than yours...'_

Chandler laughed and shook her head. _'What am I saying? Her life is more interesting than yours! Look at your sad, pathetic excuse for a life...have you even been to a birthday party?'_

I rolled my eyes and looked away from her. "I'm not that antisocial..."

 _'Uh-huh. Sure you aren't...'_

"Just..." I let out a sigh, looking up at the ceiling. "...Please shut up."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Looks like things aren't calming down like JD hoped they would, sadly. Surprisingly enough, he might be considering that Veronica might be right about the world...**

 **What do you think JD's going to do?**

 **Poor McNamara. She deserves so much better...**

 **And, Chandler's back! For the better or for the worse - actually, I'm guessing it'll be for the worse.**

 **I've been wondering...do you like this AU's JD or Veronica more? Which, in your opinion, is the better character? I'd love to hear your thoughts!**

 _Responses to Reviews_

Anna The Oreo Artist: He is being haunted by Heather Chandler, correct! C: And, I believe you mentioned something about making fan art for this fanfic (I deleted it since you repeated most of the information in this review) and can I just say how honored I'd be?! Like, seriously. I'd probably scream if someone did that.

DisneyDreamer123: Thank you! And, about the animatic - I have gotten some progress on it done. I have a little intro for it to explain what the animatic is centered on, and once that part's finished, I might post it as an update.

BeautifulPhrases: I'm honored that you like this story so much!

Guest: That's an interesting interpretation, actually! Although Veronica is influencing JD's behavior, it is also caused by...and, some of you might of guessed this already, but, his depression. Heather Chandler, Ram, and Kurt's deaths hasn't really helped his mental health at all.

Guest: I seriously can't believe that people say that I portray JD so well? Or that this story is great? I thought people wouldn't like him - since it's a major shift from the confident, charming JD we all know by now.

 **Before I close this chapter off, I want to thank you for everything. The favorites, the follows, reviews... Seriously. Reading reviews and seeing people actually liking this fanfiction (well, it's not stupid, I know, but you get the point) brightens my day.**

 **I never thought people would care so much about something I wrote.**

 **Thank you.**


	17. Redamancy

**I hope you like this chapter!**

* * *

Living with Heather Chandler - or rather, the ghost of her - would probably be on the list of the worst things that could possibly happen to someone.

I was extremely unlucky.

Of course, this wasn't a sudden epiphany. Too much shit had already happened in the past: my mother's death, moving around every five or so months, Bud Dean's bigotry, Laura Cary: the Demon of Ellison Middle School, the pain of leaving my friends behind, the constant reminder that I was just that weird kid who no one bothered to look at or even talk to...

 _'Just shut up already, fuckface. You've brooded enough today.'_

"It's the morning, though," I mumbled, opening my eyes ever so slightly to catch a glimpse at the clock. 8:16 A.M.

Chandler sighs exasperatingly. _'You get my point.'_

I rolled my eyes. Nicholas stirs beside me.

He slowly rose, his blinking a flutter as he struggled to stay up. "Shit, Jason...how long did we stay up last night?"

His hickory brown eyes glistened with worry once he discerned my expression. "...Jason, are you okay?"

Shit. Should I tell the truth? I glanced away from his face, searching around the room for an answer. I spot Heather Chandler standing a few feet away. No, Nicholas would think I'm crazy. I can't tell him.

I can't tell anyone.

Nicholas frowned, more and more distress accumulating in his gaze. He brushes one of my curls away from my face. "Jason?"

I stared at him, unsure what to say or do. "...I'm, uh, fine," I said, trying to recompose my demeanor. "Yeah. I'm okay. Great, even."

I cracked a nervous smile and a sheepish laugh.

He only frowned in response, his brows knitting as he relentlessly stares at me. "Really?" he queries, his voice flat.

"Really," I repeated, diverting my attention to the window. Hey, it's sunny today. That's good.

I glanced at Nicholas. He's still looking at me.

...He has really nice eyes.

"I'm just tired," I mumbled after awhile, my voice weak as thawed ice.

Nicholas raised an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything. He inched closer to me.

From here, he had the scent of old books and jasmine flowers.

I heard Chandler stifle her laughter. What was so funny?

Silence hangs over the room for a few moments. I eventually meet Nicholas' hickory gaze, a light rose red dusting my cheeks. He seemed to copy this.

Before I can even comprehend the situation, Nicholas leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine.

I leaned back at first, utter shock wreathing my expression. Should I pull away? What if someone bursts into the room uninvited?

For some bizarre reason, I was able to dismiss these thoughts and lean back in. He seems delighted by this as a crooked grin appears on his face.

We sat there, my hands drifting up his back and into his hair. His hair was exceptionally soft...The aroma was something similar to wisterias.

He crawled on top of me, astriding my hips.

However, as he's nipping at my neck and starting to unbutton my flannel, a voice echoes across the room.

 _'Man, I bet Veronica would love to know what's happening right now!'_

I froze, my hazel gaze flickering open. I winced at the sudden change of light. She had been completely erased from my train of thought. I look down at Nicholas - his face was undoubtedly flushed, but he remained relatively unperturbed.

God, I can't do this. I have a girlfriend - what the fuck was I thinking?

"Nicholas," I said feebly, hoping he'd listen to me.

He halted, lifting his head away from my neck. He placed a hand on my now bare chest, his body heat severely heated compared to mine. "Hmm?"

I can't help but smile loosely at him. I tried to hide it - I can't smile, not now. "We...we can't. I love Veronica, remember?"

Nicholas just hovered there, as if he wasn't sure what to do next. He slowly got off of me, guilt plaguing his face. "I'm sorry, Jason, I..."

 _'Aw, you're gonna make him cry,'_ Chandler taunts. I sigh. "No, I should be sorry. I should've been thinking straight..."

I sat up and buttoned my flannel again. "Look, we should just pretend that never happened."

He stood up and looked away from me, staring out the window. "It was just a dream, right?"

I ran a hand through my hair and stared blankly at the floor. "...Right."

...I was glad Veronica wasn't there.

o00o

Nicholas walked with me to the bus stop that night. I had already said my goodbyes to his family, which earned me a couple suffocating hugs and sappy farewells.

He took a hefty sigh as he looks out into the street before us. "Guess this is it."

I nodded, ducking my head and looking at the ground. "Yeah..."

Silence hung over us like a heavy veil of storm clouds.

I looked off to the side, watching as people strolled down the sidewalk, their faces barely lit by the streetlamps. I wanted to look to my right, but I couldn't bring myself to look at Nicholas.

It felt like we were standing there for hours.

 _'Aw, poor Jason. It's only been twenty minutes.'_

I promptly ignored Heather Chandler's voice and continued to brood. God, how I missed silence.

The bus eventually lumbered toward us, spewing hazy smoke into the air like some sort of a mythical creature. I took a shaky breath, realizing that this was the last time I'd see Nicholas for months. Maybe even a year. I glanced over at him.

He stood there, his face crestfallen and distant. He jammed his hands into his jacket's pockets and glimpsed up at me. He must've heard the bus too.

"Have a great summer, Jason," Nicholas murmured, his eyes meeting mine.

I nodded lightly, swallowing the lump in my throat. "You too, Nicholas. It...uh, was nice seeing you again."

"Yeah," he agreed, seemingly unmoved by my words. Was that the word? I didn't know...maybe he was just feeling guilty. Hopefully.

What if he didn't care? No, he still cared. No one would change their opinions of someone so quickly...

Right?

I composed myself and turned as the bus finally reached us.

The conversation stops there and I get onto the bus.

Nicholas started to saunter down the sidewalk, his feet shuffling against one another as he walked. I took my seat and looked out the window, watching as he faded into the distance as the bus started to move along.

I took out my journal and started to write in an entry, trying to block out a single thought:

...Why didn't I say anything else?

o00o

Before I knew it, I was back in Sherwood, Ohio. It was around 10 A.M - I could tell from the carolina blue sky mixed with faint colors of dawn.

I looked around the bus, noting how few people remained. A mother and her child were huddled a few rows back, the child staring out at the rolling landscape. He was in awe. Across from me was a Remington University student - judging from his varsity jacket. He was hungover, I could tell from just taking a glance at him.

I hastily looked away when he glared at me. I wasn't in the mood for getting into any fights.

All I really wanted was to see Veronica again. More than a week had already past since Ram and Kurt's funeral, and I hadn't seen her since.

Once I managed to fully wake up and step off the bus, I looked around at the bus stop. My dad had promised me that he'd pick me up.

He wasn't there. No one was there. Of course.

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. _'I can't believe you trusted him,'_ Chandler mumbled, following me as I started to walk down the street.

I crept into my house a few minutes later, watching as light filled the room. The only source of sound was upstairs - I could faintly hear 'Love Bites' by Def Leppard playing.

...What an unfortunate song.

I gripped my suitcase's handle a little tighter and took a deep breath. That thing with Nicholas never happened.

The staircase creaked as I crossed each step, the shrill noise echoing throughout the house. That thing was Nicholas never happened. That thing was Nicholas never happened...

As I sauntered to my room and reached for the doorknob, the door opened.

Veronica stood there, garbed in a pale blue shirtwaist dress and gray flats. An opal necklace appeared to substitute her red brooch. A slight smile graced her features and she dragged me inside the room.

Heather Chandler scoffed and walked past us, simmering with annoyance. _'We get it, dumbass. You're obsessed with her.'_

"I'm not obsessed," I insisted, my tone curt.

Veronica furrowed her brows and glanced at me. "What was that?"

I shot daggers at Chandler before looking back at the brunette with a smile. "Nothing."

She simply shook her head and sighs.

"I'm glad you're back," Veronica admits after a few seconds, setting down the glass she was holding - I assumed she had previously been watering the houseplants. "I missed you." She stifles her laughter. "So did Poe."

I glanced at my desk, looking into the hamster cage. Thanks, Poe.

Veronica turns toward me. "So, you know how boring everyone in Sherwood is?"

I nodded and practically threw my suitcase onto the floor. "Of course."

She huffed. "I asked Jacqueline Carr and Heather Duke if they wanted to get slushies the other day, and they called me a dweeb! Jacqueline's on a stupid diet or something. And you know what I said? I said, 'Jackie, you can take your fancy diet and shove it up your ass'."

We shared a laugh.

"Anyway," Veronica drawls, plopping onto my bed. "Guess what tonight is?"

I sat next to her, searching through my mind for an answer. "Uh...strip croquet?"

She snorts and shakes her head. "I'll think about it. The correct answer was Alexander Newell's party."

I blinked. It was just another party, another waste of time. "And?"

She smirks. "And you're invited - thanks to me."

"You have to be fucking kidding me."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Looks like there's some drama between Nicholas and JD. I wonder what Veronica will do if she finds out...**

 **...And Veronica invited JD to a party! Will it be complete chaos or will he actually have some sort of fun?**

 **Also, Anna the Oreo Artist drew a bunch of fanart for this story! It's on Wattpad (It's called 'Art stuff...or is it?' by The_Oreo_Artist). She's an incredible artist, and I literally freaked out so much when I saw her drawings.**

 **And, if you're wondering, I'm totally down with people drawing fanart for this fanfic. If you'd like, I could feature it on the Tumblr ask blog (with credit, of course). Warning: I'll probably freak out and thank you a thousand times. Oops?**

Responses to Reviews

DisneyDreamer123: I'm glad you like both of them (personally, I drift between the two. Most of the time I adore JD, but sometimes Veronica manages to steal the spotlight). Also, sorry that I was sort of vague about Ram and Kurt earlier - I wasn't sure how to respond to that review in particular without spoiling my plans. Also, I am mainly going off the movie, but there's been and will be a few times where I'll break away and do my own thing or go off of the musical.

Anna The Oreo Artist: Heather McNamara might have done a few bad things, but I still feel bad for her. I thought it should be mentioned that her relationship with Ram was toxic, (irredeemable, really). Anyway, I'm excited to write more about Heather Chandler! I thought bringing in her ghost would make things interesting :)

 **I hope you have a fantastic day.**


	18. Distilled Spirits

**This chapter required a shit load of research, and you'll probably see why throughout the chapter. Prepare for a major 80s throwback**

 **Also, I'm highkey pissed at myself for not updating. I went backpacking, and I didn't have the time to complete the chapter! Forgive my stupidity.**

 **Last thing - I have a poll up on my profile, and I'd appreciate it if you at least check it out. Vote, if you want!)**

 **ANYWAY. Here's the chapter!**

* * *

Those few words evoked a heated discussion on whether I had to attend or not - Veronica argued that I had to, while my argument was the exact opposite of her answer. Nevertheless, she dragged me into her car and sped off to her house.

And, here I was. Sitting on her bed and petting her tabby cat, awaiting for the outfit she devised for me to wear. I glanced up, wondering if she made any progress in her decision.

"...What are you doing?"

Veronica looked up at me. She was holding a pair of jeans and a knife.

"Making ripped jeans," she answers, drawing the knife through the fabric. "For you. None of mine will fit you, so..."

I sighed and shook my head, letting out a sigh. "Veronica, you realize how stupid I'm going to look?"

"Hey, these are cool," she asserted, shooting a glare at me. "And trending. Our kids are gonna look back on the photographs we take and say: 'Hey, our parents actually had great fashion senses'!"

...It was a playful glare. It had to be. Maybe I could take it as a joke...?

"I rolled my eyes, "Sure, darling."

"The brunette's all too familiar cold, nettled expression warped into amusement as she smirked. It was a joke. Good.

I didn't want to make Veronica mad for as long as I could. Then, if she found out about the situation with Nicholas, maybe she'd go easy on me..

Eventually, she finished ripping the jeans and set the pair on her bed. "You'll be fine." She darted into her closet and came back with a black Members Only jacket.

"No," I stated firmly, grimacing at the sight of the jacket. Before I bought my trench coat, I used to wear those jackets all the time - those were dark times. "Fuck no, I'm not wearing that shit."

"You hate everything," she groaned, throwing the so-called choice jacket at me.

I ran my hand over the fabric, dreading the fact that I'd be stuck wearing it for the rest of the night. I could live with wearing Doc Martens for the night, but this? "I don't hate everything."

"Really?" she scoffed, raising an eyebrow. "Name one thing that you don't hate."

"You," I blurted, glancing up at her. "I've never hated you."

Did...did I just really say that?

She smirked and pressed a kiss to my head, stifling her laughter. "Good answer, Clyde."

At first, I knitted my brows. Clyde? What the hell was that supposed to mean - then it came to me.

Clyde Barrow.

...Guess that was my new nickname. Alright, then.

 _'Jesse James' better.'_

o00o

"I'm not getting drunk, Veronica."

The two of us were in the middle of another argument over what I'd do at the party - she said that I would be in a background for a while as she talked to other people, and she'd eventually come back to me and we'd both get shitfaced.

"I didn't want to do that.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair - as if this was something she had to stress over. It really wasn't. "God, JD. Live a little for once. It won't hurt."

"Sounds like what Heather Chandler told you."

The brunette shot me a cold glare at my reply, and I immediately shrinked back into my seat and apologized.

She huffed, turning her attention back towards the road. "Good."

"She paused for a long while, turning the radio to play 'Jessie's Girl'. "...You shouldn't worry about it, anyway. Heather Duke promised that she'd be our designated driver."

...Heather Duke? "Why?"

"Because we're friends?" Veronica furrowed her brows. "JD, believe or not, I'm still friends with the Heathers. I just hate Heather Chandler..."

 _'Oh, that bitch! She's lucky I'm not alive - I would've kicked her ass!'_

Sure you would.

When we arrived at the party, I gagged.

"The house in itself wasn't bad. It was a mid-century modern - similar to mine, but it looked to be a few years older. Among ivy clad walls and under the veil of sweetgum trees, stood three or four tipsy teenagers overdressed in neon hues.

It was just the people there that really bothered me. It looked like someone spilled a bag of skittles on the brick pathway and just left them there.

One of them spotted our car and waved hastily, her ginger curls bouncing as she ran over. "Veronica!" she chirped.

Veronica grimaced when she saw the approaching teenager, but managed to put on a fake grin. She exited the car and strutted over to the redhead.

"Jackie, it's nice to see you," the brunette muttered airily, engulfing the shorter teen in a hug.

"I'm glad you could make it!" she giggled, backing away and looking around the driveway. "Where's Jason? I thought he was coming."

"It's JD. Not Jason," Veronica promptly corrected her. "And he'll be here in a second, don't worry." The brunette shot me a sharp glare and I stepped out of the car, worried she might get annoyed.

Jacqueline smiled at me. "It's nice to meet you...Jason Dean, right?"

I nodded. "Uh, yeah..." I paused, wondering if I should say her name. Would that be weird?...No. She referred to mine. It's fine. "...Jacqueline Carr."

Veronica cringed and Jacqueline laughed, her clumsily applied lipstick highlighting her bright smile. "Just call me Jackie. Anyway, why don't you two come inside? Heather and Heather are already here."

"Gladly," Veronica agreed hastily, already making her way towards the crowd of people. As we neared the house, I could hear - fuck, what was it - 'Seasons Change', by Exposé? I think that's it...

I snapped back into reality. Oh God. I had to follow her, didn't I? Shit. I couldn't do this...

The brunette grabbed my arm and dragged me with her.

This was happening. Shit. What if they stared at me? They already were. That guy in a varsity jacket was staring at me. That raven-haired girl was staring at me. The guy just looked away, but she didn't. Why was she staring at me?

My breath hitched and I ducked my head, staring at the ground. Maybe she'd look away. Maybe she was looking behind me...who would be behind me, though?

I turned my head. No one was there.

What the fuck was she looking at?

"This is Jason Dean," Jacqueline explained to the crowd of students. "Veronica's boyfriend. He goes by JD."

Veronica wrapped an arm around me, pointing to each person as she talked.

"That's Carrie, that's Raymond, that's Noel, and that's Angela."

"Raymond squinted at me, discerning my outfit. "Hey...aren't you the kid who shot Kurt and Ram?"

"...That was months ago, back in the cafeteria. "Yeah," I confirmed, startled by his sudden question. Fuck, I should've lied. He's going to think I'm batshit. "It was just blanks, though. No harm done."

He nodded slowly, looking at what I assumed to be another football player - Noel. "I know. Ram and Kurt wouldn't stop talking about it for weeks."

I laughed nervously, and Veronica kissed my cheek. "He's fucking crazy, but I still love him."

She wasn't wrong about the crazy part, really. I glimpsed down at my shoes, trying to avoid any eye contact.

Carrie - the raven haired girl who had stared at me earlier - caught on quickly. "Hey, why don't you go get us some more beer, Angie?"

Angela perked up, practically glowing with avidity as she turned on her heel. "Alright. Just give me a second."

With that, Angela stumbled off into the night, slipping into the house. Jacqueline's breath hitched and she followed, yelling after Angela, "Wait up!"

"I knew you looked familiar," Carrie muses, eyeing me up. "Where's the trench coat? That's like, your trademark, right?"

I shifted in my place, agitated by her glassy pale gaze. What did she want? "I, uh..."

"He left it at my house," Veronica piped in, stepping in front of me. I heaved a sigh of relief - nothing would go further than this, due to her stentorian stance. Probably.

Carrie nodded slowly, taking a sip of her stereotypical red solo cup. "Mm-hmm...he looks better now, though. Ace jacket."

Veronica grinned and glanced over at me - even though she was silent, I knew what she was thinking. 'I told you so'.

I huffed lightly and threw an arm over Veronica, shaking my head. "It's not that great..."

It really wasn't.

Carrie giggled and rolled her eyes, glancing down at her feet. "Chill, JD. It's okay to have a fashion sense!"

Wow.

"Which," the brunette promptly added, "Is something he'll never have. I chose his outfit."

...Wow. I bit my lip, forcing a chuckle. Thanks, Veronica.

Raymond laughed for what I deemed to be at least forty seconds, his cheeks that were already flushed with alcohol brightening to a cherry red.

Angela and Jacqueline started to approach us again, holding a multitude of beer bottles - I was almost certain that they'd drop one. But, no.

They handed one out to each of Veronica's friends, each letting out either a squeal or some sort of sound of approval.

Eventually, Angela turned to me, holding out a bottle. "Here, JD!"

I grimaced. Alcohol wasn't really my thing, considering what happened last time someone got drunk in my family...and the times before that.

Thanks for being a piece of shit, Dad.

"No thanks," I declined quietly, hoping that she'd just shrug it off and move on.

But, of course, Veronica had to swoop in. She elbowed me, frowning. "Babe. Don't be such a pillowcase..."

Noel, Carrie, and Raymond all murmured in agreement, their eyes all seemingly focused on me. It wasn't that big of a deal, really - I wasn't in the mood for drinking. Alas, the intoxicated teenagers couldn't comprehend that. At all.

I shakily reach towards Jacqueline, curling my fingers around the glass bottle and revoking it from her. The girl offered me a polite grin and took a sip of her own. "There you go."

I gave her a faltering smile as I took a taste of the bottle, the tar-like bitter substance overwhelming my taste buds. Cheap liquor. My father had far better stuff tucked away somewhere in his liquor cabinet

...Not that I wanted to try some, mind you. I...just wished they had better quality drinks available. Like, uh...slushies. Yeah.

 _...Is that why Veronica found you crying in your bedroom, surrounded by beer cans a few days before you left for Indiana?'_

Shut up. No - that never happened.

It never happened. You wouldn't know - you weren't even there. Checkmate.

 _'That was before I learned I could still talk, idiot.'  
_  
...Just shut up.

"Jace?"

I snapped back into reality, focusing my gaze back on Veronica. She, unsurprisingly, had a hint of concern in her eyes. "Hmm?" I asked nonchalantly, trying to give off the vibe that I, was indeed, fine.

 _'What a joke.'_

"Well," Veronica began, dragging her feet on the brick pathway, making shapes with her heel. "We're heading inside. Wanna go?"

I nodded promptly, straightening my spine. "Yeah. Let's motor." I added a sip of beer during my speech to add a bit of coolness. Or whatever.

She cracked a grin, taking my hand and entwining our fingers. This was good, I told myself. Clearly, she liked me when I actually followed her orders. That's good. "Sweet."

With that, we followed the crowd of teenagers into the cramped house. Another group moved passed by, seemingly taking our place.

It was like we were stuck on a cycle; it was repetitive, and rather tedious.

As the night progressed, I could feel myself gradually growing more and more unsteady as Veronica offered me bottle after bottle. Even when Alexander Newell strolled up to us - the auburn-haired football captain, who happened to be one of the most influential and judgmental students in Westerburg - and threw an arm around Carrie, I was unphased, as if he wasn't someone who could turn his full attention to me and recognize that I had gotten his best friends suspended.

And would probably proceed to either yell at me or beat me up. One of the two, at least.

Luckily, that wasn't the case. He blabbered on and on about how he was stoked for the new football season, and that the team would miss Ram and Kurt deeply - they were two of the best players, apparently. What a shame, I thought. Oh well.

I took another sip of the liquor and watched Veronica and Jacqueline discuss the situation with Sandra Wakefield and Melanie Achthoven. Carrie, Alexander, and Raymond listened, occasionally leaning over to one another and whispering.

Noel had faded away into the sea of teenagers, dragged off by Angela. Good for him, I guess.

Veronica brushed back a strand of her hair, staring into the bottleneck as she swirled the liquid around. "They shouldn't be outed for that, Jackie."

"Are you _crazy?_ " the redhead asked, wrinkling her nose. "Sandra and that Achthoven girl are queers! God knows what they'd do if we invited them here!"

Everyone in the group - spare Veronica and I - nodded in unison, each of their faces contorting into a grimace.

"I bet they'd get horizontal," Alexander butted in, earning a giggle from Carrie.

"A flash of anger ignited in Veronica's eyes. I shifted my feet nervously, ducking my head. You never wanted to see that look.

"They were drunk," she stated blatantly, brushing it off. "Dude. It was just a stupid mistake, a one time thing."

Raymond snorted, his matted brown bangs spilling over his face. He takes another swig of his red solo cup. "Since when do you care about Sandra, Ronnie? Aren't you two, like, sworn enemies or some shit?"

"Was he really trying to start this? I blinked slowly, still staring at the ground. Veronica wrapped an arm around me, trying to keep herself from losing her ground of reality - maybe she'd snap.

...Hopefully not.

Veronica stumbled on her words, her face warping into slight confusion at Raymond's accusation. A rarity, considering that she never slipped up...

Wait. She was drinking. I glanced down at my bottle, noticing that it was near drained. I was drinking. She was drunk, that's all. Hell, maybe I was hearing things. That's a possibility.

"Oh, fuck her. Sandra sucks ass, Ray," she asserts, her garnet nails clinking against the glass bottleneck. Everyone stared blankly at her, unconvinced. Her face was darkened, as if she was nervous - what would she be nervous about?

I reached over to her, curling an arm around her waist. She seemed to appreciate the gesture, as a small, shaky smile appeared on her face. "Raymond...dude. She's the shittiest person I've met. I'd never."

Pretty poetic, for a drunk person. I nodded in agreement, a low chuckle to my tone. No idea what she was saying at the time, as I was just staring at her face and realizing how pretty she looked in the soft blue lights.

"Good job lights, I thought. I couldn't really see Veronica outside. Now I can.

Jacqueline stifled her mirth, anything remotely serious about her demeanor vanishing into pure gaiety. "That sounds like something a lesbian would say, Veronica. What, do you like Mel, then?"

 _'I wouldn't be surprised.'_

"I'm not -" Veronica scoffed, growing cold again. My smile waned for a few moments, but it soon returned - she still looked pretty. "I'm dating JD, for fuck's sake!"

Silence brewed in the air. No one opened their mouth to say something, no one whispered. They just stood there, blinking.

"Until, I, the most brilliant drunk person in the world, decided to say, "Hey. Hey...guys. Does anyone like the song 'Don't Stop Me Now' by Queen? It's kinda underrated, but I still like it -"

Veronica hastily faced me, placing a hand on my chest. "Babe...could you go find the Heathers? I couldn't find them anywhere, and we need a designated driver..."

Little did I know at the time, this was Veronica's friendly way of telling me to 'get lost' while she sorted out the conversation.

I gave her a dopey wide grin, nodding halfheartedly. Of course I would - it was believable at the time, considering how big I thought the party was. It looked like everyone from Sherwood was in the same house, so maybe Veronica couldn't scour the swarm for the two Heathers. "Okay."

Her irked expression was painted over with fabricated gratitude. "It means a lot to me."

"Okay," I echoed again, turning on my heel and staggering into the sea of dancing teenagers. There was a lot of neon. And nauseous perfume and cologne.

Focus, JD, I told myself. Find the green and the yellow one. They shouldn't be too hard to find.

I tried my best to search the party, which involved me drunkenly stepping into random strangers' conversations, mistaking a girl's yellow or green outfit for a Heather's. That earned me a few inhospitable looks.

Whatever. Their opinions didn't matter. I...just needed to find them. It'll make Veronica happy, right? That matters.

Eventually, though, I spotted the two exchanging dialogue with...whats-her-face and whats-his-face.

""Heather," I muttered, tapping McNamara's shoulder. With knitted brows, she glanced over at me. Her hair bobbed in the hair for a second or two as she spun her head, the blonde curls eventually settling down and cascading down her back. That's...a lot of hair. Jesus. How much hair spray did she use? Five cans?

"Heather beamed, a pale glow restored in her eyes as she recognized me. "Jason! I didn't think you'd be here!"

"Me neither." I wondered how she could decode my slurred words.

Heather Duke paused in the middle of an anecdote, her attention drawn by my appearance.

We made eye contact.

...And, I didn't feel nervous. I gave her a warm, goofy smile. Maybe it wouldn't be so awkward now. Alcohol was actually helping me, for once.

The smile definitely confused her, I could tell that. The Green Heather simply nodded, slowly reaching out her hand. "...Heather Alexis Duke."

Apparently, we've never really introduced ourselves to each other. I took her hand, briskly shaking it. Veronica couldn't know I made contact with someone else - I was already on thin ice with Nicholas. Probably. "Jason Elijah Dean."

"Cool name."

I nodded, trying to take another swig of my beer. There was only a few drops left, but I made the most of it. "Yeah.

Okay, I found them. That's good. What now? Veronica said...we need a designated driver. Okay. That has to be the green one. That's what Veronica said.

"Hey," I addressed, tapping both of their shoulders. They looked at me quizzically, considering the fact that they had been directly staring at me. "Veronica needs you. To, uh...be our designated driver."

They shared a silent mental exchange, before Duke furrowed her brows. "Are you leaving? It's only 12..."

Were we leaving? She never really clarified that part... "I don't know," I admitted softly, looking down at my shoes.

Before any of the Heathers could respond, I heard shouting. Not just regular, run-off-the-mill shouting, but screeching. I tried to locate who was making all the noise, and others followed in my wake.

It was Veronica.

Veronica simmered with unalloyed animosity, her once skittish air evaporating by the second. She shoved her way through the ground, scanning each and every student's face. However, once she saw me, her expression lessened in intensity. Well, at least a little bit./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 14.4px;""Jason," she says curtly, grabbing my arm. "We gotta go."

Okay, so we were leaving. That was important to know. "Right now?"

"Right now," she confirmed, glaring back at where she had formerly stood. "Can you drive us, Heather?"

"Heather Duke froze, confused at Veronica's sudden request. She took a brief glance at McNamara, unsure how to respond. "...Sure. See you later, Heather."

"Heather McNamara nodded, trying to mask her befuddlement. "Bye, Heather."

"And, as that awkward exchange ended, Veronica led Duke and I through the horde. It was sort of relieving to return outside, the fresh air masking the smell of vomit, alcohol, and mistakes.

I took a seat in the back of her car after Veronica beckoned me there, patting the seat next to her as she did so. I didn't question it.

"Once the Green Heather took her place in the driver's seat and started the car, Veronica turned to me, still brimming with hostility.

""Drive us to JD's house," the brunette muttered, her eyes unrelenting as she continued to stare at me. "It's by McNamara's place."

"Alright," Heather replied airily, sighing. She turned on the radio, letting the song 'Heart and Soul' by T'Pau play.

I watched as Alexander's house fade into the distance as we drove through the woods, the alder and blackhaw trees obscuring the light the house emitted. Eventually, the car fell silent - spare the radio, of course.

"By the time we neared the center of Sherwood, however, Veronica spoke up.

"Jason," she muttered, her eyes conflicting with her demeanor. While her posture was relaxed and at ease, her eyes blazed with fury.

"Yes?" My voice was small, as I feared what was to come. Would she yell? She probably would...the real question was how much she'd freak out. A lot, most likely.

"Her reaction was quite the contrary. She turned me towards her, kissing me and biting my bottom lip. "We don't need those fucks," she murmured hoarsely, pushing me against the seat.

"For a second, I was confused to what she was referring to. Who? Did she mean anyone in particular, or just the world in general?

Then, I realized...maybe things weren't going so well between Veronica and her friends. It would explain the yelling, and the fact that we left the party earlier than anticipated.

"Mhm..." I murmured simply, as I didn't want to give off the impression that I was a little worried.

"Things progressed pretty quickly from there, and Heather Duke let out a small gasp when she looked at the rear view mirror. "Jesus Christ," she utters with indignation, now devoting her full attention to the road. "Wait until we're there!"

"Veronica lifted her head and glimpsed at Heather Duke. Apparently, the both of us somehow magically forgot that there was another person present in the car.

"Just...wait five minutes, at least..."

I briskly looked away, trying my best to avoid any sort of eye contact. Veronica seemed to do the same, as she bit at one of her fingernails aimlessly, staring down at the floor.

...Well, we waited five minutes, and ended up arriving at my house after six.

Thankfully, Bud happened to be absent from the house that night.

o00o

I woke up the next morning - or rather, in the afternoon, judging from the amount of bright light filtering through the window - and fluttered open my eyes.

At first, I was confused. Why did something feel off? Everything appeared to be the same at first glance.

But then I looked down.

Veronica laid in my arms, her back gently rising up and down as she dreamed. She didn't look that bothered.

I wondered, however, how the hell she got there. What happened last night?

I glanced around the room, my brows furrowing.

...Oh.

Our clothes scattered the room, the dreadful Members Only jacket hanging off of a chair. That...explained a lot.

Although my head was throbbing with a migraine, I deciphered the situation pretty quickly from there.

Veronica stirred at the slightest sound of my breath hitching, and her eyes slowly opened.

"A soft, lovestruck smile obscured her features, and she nestled closer to me. It was like her sudden explosion of anger from last night had disappeared altogether, faded in the wind. "...We haven't had that much fun in a while, haven't we?"

"I nodded, swallowing the pit in my throat. "...We haven't."

Well, uh...that was not how I expected my night to go.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Also, this is unrelated, but this is the only way I know how to reach one of my friends I met on Shamchat/talk to on Chatzy (since they read this fanfic): I'm not sure if I've lost contact with you, but it appears as so. If you happen to be reading this message, could you make an account on here or Tumblr and message me? I'll, of course, be asking questions (if you're the person I was looking for, these questions will be easy to answer) just so I know it's you and not someone else.**

 **I'll delete that ^ if I'm able to contact them.**

 **Veronica dragged (quite literally) JD to the party. He clearly didn't enjoy himself, even though he was supplied with free alcohol. Though, from his reaction, I'm sure he didn't like it that much...**

 **I've started to write in a slightly different style, as you probably figured out. Do you guys like it?**

 _Responses to Reviews_

DisneyDreamer123: Yeah...let's just say that it's only going to get worse for JD from this chapter on.

Anna The Oreo Artist: /emI've been trying to show some kind of chemistry between Nicholas and JD, so that way it wouldn't of popped out of nowhere. Hopefully, it wasn't that bad (and I hope you guys didn't mind me adding Nicholas to the story)...and, for your idea of what was going to happen, you were pretty close - but JD stayed at the party, and just made things extremely awkward. Veronica actually caused the problems - plot twist?

theyawizard:/em Here's another chapter! Thanks for being patient! :)

 **Also, this somehow reached at least 30,000 words? How? I never expected this fanfic to be so long, honestly?**

 **Have a great day!**


	19. hey

**Greetings and salutations.**

 **Now, you may be wondering: _'Jesus, where have you been? You literally haven't updated the story in MONTHS!'_**

 **It's a long story. My mental health has gone to shit and most of my friends have abandoned me at this point. I went through a dreadfully bad storm of depression from late December to February. If you want to know more about why I'm rewriting this and shit, head over to the new story.**

 **However, I miss writing. I really do. So, I'm rewriting this! I'll delete this story in a few days, so people can have a chance to see this message and head over to the new fanfiction.**

A flock of shadows, both fleeting and perpetual, encircled his head like a crown of hatred. He kept glancing around the boiler room, his fingers almost trembling as he feebly clung to his gun.

Those shadows lingered, now drifting around the boiler room and flickering in the corners of every object. He didn't know where Veronica stood - all he knew was that she was hidden in the endless corridors of smoke and darkness.

That is, until he stumbled across the brunette.

Weary and desperate, she turned around, her eyes widened.

"...Jesus fucking Christ."

 **Shitty, I know, but I technically needed to put a little story here so this update wouldn't get taken down.**

 **I'll post the new story in a minute. It'll be called 'Don't Fear the Reaper'.**


End file.
